IT'S WITCHCRAFT
by pa-mark21
Summary: When Draco Malfoy finds himself falling for the Gryffindor knowitall, he convinces himself that it’s merely witchcraft. But when they both finally come to terms with the truth, nothing can stop them from being together. This is a tale of forbidden love an
1. WITH ONE LOOK

**A/N:** Everything except the plot between Draco and Hermione (and a few characters I added) belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter one: With One Look**

Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes as Hermione answered another question perfectly, earning ten points for Gryffindor. With Snape teaching Defense against the Dark Arts instead of Potions, Draco's favorite subject had quickly become his worst. His only solace came with that fact that Potter was no longer the best in DADA.

"Harry, you've done it again!" yelled Slughorn from across the dungeon and Draco nearly chopped off the end of his finger in his disgust. He glanced in Potter's direction long enough to catch a glimpse of Hermione's frustrated glare at her friend. _How's it feel to be outdone, Mudblood?_ he thought contemptuously.

The massive form that was Professor Slughorn threw a shadow over Draco's cauldron as he observed its contents. "Adequate, Mr. Malfoy," he said, clicking his tongue, "though after an Outstanding OWL I'd expect better out of you."

Draco swore under his breath as the enormous man moved to the next table. From across the room, his grey eyes locked with a brown pair belonging to Hermione Granger. Instead of her normal stares of contempt, she looked at him with a seeming understanding. For once, He didn't feel like narrowing his eyes or mouthing some sort of cruel insult, he just went back to his rapidly bubbling cauldron.

Seconds later he pounded his fist on the table in frustration. It wasn't like him to pass up a chance to make a Mudblood feel inferior, especially Granger. His fellow Slytherins looked at him questionably, but went back to their work as he growled at them. "What's wrong with me?" he asked himself inaudibly.

Not long after, Slughorn finally put Draco out of his misery. He collected his books and timed his exit so he could painfully shoulder Hermione out of the way; as if it was her fault that he'd had a moment of weakness. He glanced back down the corridor, a small smirk playing at his lips, and saw the narrow eyes he was accustomed to. "Teach you to look at me," he sneered under his breath, "with those big–"

He stopped short in his tracks. Did he really just say that? He tried, to no avail, to forget what he'd almost said and practically ran to the Slytherin common room for his free period. The last thing he needed to do was entertain thoughts of Mudblood. Especially Granger… especially now.

"He's up to something," whispered Harry for the second time. "I know it." He had barely touched his lunch and it seemed that catching Draco was quickly becoming his obsession.

"We know, Harry," Hermione agreed, rubbing her bruised shoulder. "but that's all you've talked about since we arrived."

Ignoring her, he turned to Ron and went on talking about his theories. She tried her best to block him out while looking around the Great hall for someone sane to talk to. Ginny was with Dean, as always, and Lavender was to busy trying to attract Ron's attention, though the attempt was completely futile. Opening her bag, Hermione realized, with slight embarrassment, that she'd already completed all of the volumes that she currently carried with her. She chewed the last few bites of her lunch and left the hall without a word to her friends. The last thing she wanted to talk, or even hear about was Draco Malfoy. The pain in her shoulder was reminder enough of his useless existence.

Her solitary free period was after lunch, and since she didn't want to sit around in the common room with Harry ranting about Malfoy, she went straight to the library. After all, she really did need to do some extra reading for her Ancient Runes assignment.

Quietly putting her bag on a table, she went to the shelves containing the books that could help her. She walked along, immersed in her searching. Occasionally she pulled out a book to appraise it further, but nothing seemed to be what she needed. She was so engrossed in her hunt that she didn't notice a person beside her, slowly edging closer in their own exploration of the shelf and it wasn't long before she collided with them. "Oh, I'm sorr–" she began before she realized who it was she'd bumped. Cold stone eyes glared down at her and her eyes narrowed. "Never mind."

"Hey," Draco said in feigned offense, "you ran into me, Mudblood." 

"It's not like you did anything to prevent it," she retorted. "and if you'd ask me–"

"I won't."

She ignored him. "You really need some new insults. That one just gets old, you know."

He stepped closer to her and brought his face within inches of hers in an effort to intimidate her... it worked. "Don't cross me, Granger," he whispered harshly and walked away.

Hermione inhaled, grabbed a random book and walked back to her table. Maybe the common room and Harry's ranting would have been preferable. She tried in vain to focus on the text but eventually gave up. Pulling out her incomplete essay, she wrote a few meaningless words but gave up on that endeavor as well.

Across the library she caught sight of Draco staring at her. When she noticed him, his eyes narrowed, but it was obvious to her that they hadn't been before.

"They mean the same thing," an unfamiliar voice behind her advised.

Hermione turned to the unknown voice and met an unknown face. "Pardon me?"

The green eyed girl pointed to the blank part of her parchment. "They mean the same thing."

"Oh," she shook her head to clear it. "thank you."

The girl gave a tentative smile and shrugged, "No problem. Could I sit here?"

"Of course," Hermione smiled quickly and moved a huge book out of the way.

The girl sat down and waited a few minutes before introducing herself, "I'm Zofia, by the way. Zofia Ruskaya." She held out a hand and Hermione shook it.

"Nice to meet you," she replied, almost distractedly. She looked back to Draco, who was still staring at her.

"Beware," Zofia said dramatically, "there's an evil presence lurking."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed wholeheartedly, "so I guess you're not in Slytherin."

She laughed, soft and short, "No, Ravenclaw." 

For the next hour Hermione was too busy talking with her new friend to even think about her runes assignment. Besides, she had very few people she could count as friends and she wasn't about to pass up the chance to make a new one. Especially since her other friends seemed to want to talk about Malfoy all the time, and he was haunting her enough.

Draco paced in front of his elegant four poster bed. Desperately he tried to think up a better plan for executing his task than his current one. Unfortunately, his mind kept wondering to places it never should. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw big brown eyes staring up at him in fear and he almost felt… guilty.

Guilt wasn't something he was used to feeling, or liked feeling. But the lingering guilt wasn't what bothered him most, and neither were her eyes. What concerned him most was slightly south of her eyes and the fact that as she'd looked up into his eyes, so obviously frightened by him, he'd actually thought of kissing her. The thought almost made him cringe…almost. But he realized that the feelings of disgust were completely fabricated because he knew that's how he should feel as both a pureblooded wizard and a Malfoy.

Then it hit him. His thoughts clearly weren't natural. "Damn, she must have done something to me!" he reasoned aloud.

"Go to bed, Malfoy!" groaned Blaise Zabini from inside his curtained bed.

Draco drew the drapes around his own bed and fell back onto his pillow, able to relax for the first time all day. It wasn't his fault that Granger kept creeping into his thoughts, she was obviously behind it.

The smallest smirk parted his lips as he fell asleep. If only Potter knew that his girlfriend was desperately after him.

**A/N: So what's the verdict? Please tell me what you think so far.**


	2. confrontation

A/N: Everything in this, with the exception of the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her genius.

**Chapter Two: Confrontation**

Hermione awoke in a cold sweat. It had been a long time since she'd had a really vivid dream, and even longer since she'd had a nightmare, but one had definitely just woken her up. She wasn't sure how long the dream had lasted, but it was long enough to scare her. Recalling the violent scene, a shiver of fear ran down her spine. "I really need to stop listening to Harry."

Crawling to the end of her bed, she reached down and pulled the runes book out of her bag. It hadn't been exactly what she'd needed, but the book was interesting nevertheless. Besides, she knew that if she went back to sleep there was always a chance she'd start dreaming again, and she didn't like those odds.

She futilely tried to read, but every time she even blinked she saw the eerily placid gray eyes of Malfoy as he raised a wand to her chest. Luckily she had woken up before he'd said anything, but she knew what he'd been about to say. She shuddered again. In about three hours she had a potions lesson with Malfoy just across the room and she really wasn't looking forward to it.

It was the first time in her life that she seriously considered skipping class.

"Draco!" Pansy whispered harshly, and apparently not for the first time.

In his start, Draco spilt the contents of the small vile he held in his hand. "Damn it, Parkinson, look what you made me do."

"Well, I had to stop you somehow!" her brow furrowed, causing an unpleasant effect across her face.

"Stop me from what?" he spat.

"Ruining your reputation! You were staring at Granger!"

His eyes widened incredulously. "I was?"

Hayden Gaige, a fellow Slytherin, snorted from his other side, "Oh, yeah."

_Uh oh_. If Pansy and Hayden had both noticed, chances were they weren't the only ones. Damn, this was the third time this week! And it was getting worse; he couldn't seem to get his eyes off of her! Whenever he entered class or the Great Hall, he immediately started searching for her. He was even spending time in the library! She had definitely done something to him, and it was right time he found out what it was. But most importantly: how to stop it.

Luckily though, he didn't have to see her until lunch that day. Today he was determined not to look for her, or think about her at all.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Lunch was slowly becoming the worst part of her day. She tried to ignore the fact that she was under the close, and seemingly constant scrutiny of Malfoy, but it was hard to carry on as usual when he kept looking at her. Not only had her horrifying nightmares persisted; Malfoy almost made her terror come to life. As if he was waiting for the precise moment to pounce.

Ginny glanced at the perturbed expression on Hermione's face. "Is he at it again?" she asked with concern.

"Yes! He's been doing it all week!" she groaned in a frustrated sigh. "I've a right mind to curse him."

"I could do it," Ginny offered. "Slughorn seems to think I'm great at curses." She rolled her eyes in an effort to cheer up her friend.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I just can't take this." She took one last drink of her pumpkin juice and shouldered her bag. "I'll be in the library."

"Bye," she bid to her friend's back.

"What was that about?" Ron asked from across the table.

"Malfoy has been staring at her all week and it's making her nervous," she explained. From the bench where Harry and Ron sat they couldn't see Malfoy as he kept close watch on their table. At the moment, though, he was watching Hermione as she left the hall. He waited a while before standing; Ginny could almost see the debate in his cold eyes. Her stomach lurched as he moved toward the door. "Oh, no you don't." she muttered.

"What?" Harry asked with alarm.

"It's Malfoy; I bet he's following Hermione._ You little weasel_." her eyes narrowed at his retreating figure as she stood up to follow.

Hermione saw the long red braid hanging over a chair as soon as she walked into the library and immediately went to it. She sighed as she set her bag on the table, "I'm glad to see you."

Zofia looked up compassionately. "You don't think he followed, do you?" she whispered, knowing what caused her disconcertment.

As if she had predicted, Malfoy swept into the huge room and glanced around the tables. Hermione fell onto the chair and hid her face. "He won't stop! It's as if he's trying to do something to me!"

Zofia glared at him from her chair. Even though she'd only known Hermione for a week, and she was a year older than Zofia herself, she still felt very protective of her new friend. And the fact that Malfoy was the cause of the discord only added fuel to her fire. "He's coming over here," she warned in a low whisper.

"Might I have a word, Granger?" he asked in feigned pleasantness.

"No," she answered flatly.

His demeanor changed instantly. "Listen, Mudblood–"

"Malfoy," she hissed through clenched teeth. "if you really want to talk to me you might try asking nicely!"

His eyes widened at her retort, "I did! You said no!"

Oh, yeah. She immediately regained her wit. "Well, then let this be a lesson in tenacity."

Without warning he violently grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her to her feet. "I'll teach you a lesson" he sneered, centimeters from her face.

But it wasn't long before he noticed the two wands pointed at his chest. "If I were you, I'd let go," Ginny said calmly and quietly, so as not to draw attention to the scene.

Draco smirked at them. "Or what?" he asked in a tone that betrayed his fear.

"Do you really want to find out, Malfoy?" Zofia asked acidly.

Realizing his defeat, he relinquished his grip and muttered a few insults as he walked away.

Hermione collapsed onto the chair and Zofia and Ginny raced to her side. "Are you okay?" they asked in unison.

"I'll live," she smiled at her friends pathetically. "Remind me why I don't just kill him?"

"Because you'll be expelled," Zofia reminded her.

"Right," she sighed dejectedly.

Ginny turned to Zofia. "Who are you?" she inquired.

"Zofia Ruskaya, Ravenclaw." She held out a hand to Ginny.

"Ah, yes, we have transfiguration together. Ginny Weasley," she said, shaking her hand.

Zofia smiled in a way that meant she already knew. Hermione looked up at Ginny in confusion. "How did you get here?"

"I saw him follow you, so I followed him. Good thing I did," she smiled at Zofia. "No offense."

"So, what are we going to do about this?" Hermione asked timidly from her chair. She was obviously shaken.

"We can't let you be alone, unless you're in the common room," Ginny suggested thoughtfully.

The three of them sat around the table and began to devise a schedule of bodyguards for Hermione. Of course, they'd have to have Harry and Ron do a great deal of it since they had classes with her. When she had none of them around, generally Malfoy wasn't either, but Hermione decided that she would take the main halls to all of her classes, so even if he were around he wouldn't have any chances of getting her alone.

Hermione didn't feel completely safe as she walked down to the Quidditch pitch, Zofia at her side, but she tried to let the excitement she felt override her fear. Since Harry, Ron and Ginny were all on the team; Zofia was on duty for the match.

It had been a week since the library, and Draco hadn't tried anything since, but his stare had yet to cease. Much to Hermione's chagrin neither had her nightmares. It wasn't like her to be paranoid and scared, but after his episode in Borgin and Burkes, and a sufficient amount of Harry's ranting, she felt her fear was justified.

The two ascended the steps to the stands where they would watch the match. Hermione felt a surge of Gryffindor pride as she joined her fellow supporters, which consisted of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as well.

But before the match even began, Hermione started to feel familiar cramps creep into her abdomen. Rolling her eyes, she turned to Zofia with a distressed look. "I have to go back to the castle," she whispered hurriedly.

"Oh, okay, I'll go with you."

Hermione smiled. "That's okay, really. If I'm safe at anytime it's during a Quidditch match."

Zofia looked at her questionably. 

"Draco's on the team," she explained. "I'll be okay." Hermione tried to disturb the least amount of people she possibly could as she left the stadium and walked back to the deserted school. Running to the Gryffindor tower, she quickly got the things she needed and took a swig of the special potion Madam Pomfrey had given her.

In her haste to get back to the match, she decided to take a couple short cuts. The only problem was that when she took them during school, she was with other students; consequently, she got lost. Only when she was in a corridor on the seventh floor, across from dancing trolls, did she realize where she was.

All of the sudden, someone came around the corner. Hermione's heart sped up as soon as she recognized the tall figure. He walked toward her, head down in thought, not noticing that anyone was there. "Malfoy?"

His head shot up at his name. "Granger?" he sneered. "What're you doing?"

Her eyes widened in utter shock. "Me?" she squeaked. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be in the match right now!"

The reality that Hermione was in position to get him in a great deal of trouble completely escaped his mind. His stomach involuntarily clench and he felt nervousness tantamount to what he felt before a match. The only thing he could focus on was the fact that, for once, they were actually alone. There wasn't anyone around to interrupt them, in truth; there wasn't anyone around at all. This was his chance to get to the bottom of his infatuation.

Without completely thinking it through, He took a firm grasp on her wrist and pulled her along as he paced in front of the wall. Hermione futilely yelled at him as he mumbled, "I need a private room," three times.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione's look of horror when the door appeared. Not taking any care to be gentle, he flung her into the room and blocked the exit.

"Are you mad? What do you think you're doing!?" she screamed, sounding a whole lot braver than she looked. She looked absolutely petrified.

"I'm going to ask you a question and it would be in your best interest to be honest," he said slowly as if he were speaking to a child. "Did you give me a love potion, or put me under some sort of spell?"

Hermione's look of terror turned to comic shock. She crossed her arms and shook her head. "You have some ego. Give me one good reason why I would even waste the Knuts."

He smirked, small and subtle. He had a few good reasons why she would give him something; unfortunately, they gave too much away. That would be detrimental to his task. "Because you want me," he leaned back on the door and crossed his arms, "and you'll do anything to get me."

She gave him an unladylike snort, "I cannot believe this. I don't like you at all; in fact, I probably hate you. No," she corrected herself, "I _do_ hate you."

The smirk fell from his face and began to walk toward her. As much as he hated to admit it, what she'd said had hit a nerve. "Well, you must have done something to me because I can't stop thinking about you!" he yelled angrily, and immediately regretted it. He could almost see her heart shatter in her eyes. Draco didn't even try to stop her as she ran past him, slamming the door in her wake.


	3. IT'S WITCHCRAFT

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Three: It's Witchcraft**

Draco kicked the nearest chair and it shattered against the blacken hearth. He caught sight of his reflection in the elaborate full-length mirror and for the first time in his life he was utterly disgusted with himself. Sure, what he'd just said to Hermione wasn't one of his proudest moments, but that was nothing compared to what he'd just realized. If she hadn't put him under some sort of spell, and from the look of pure agony on her face she obviously hadn't, it meant that the feelings he felt for her were completely authentic.

After letting out a feral yell, he left the room. Pacing in front of it once more, he reentered the transformed room and set to work. He was quite happy to have something to take his mind off what had just happened in the very same space.

Hermione didn't immediately return to the Quidditch match. As much as she hated herself for it, she couldn't stop the tears from escaping her brown eyes. But why should she care what Malfoy said? He'd probably just said it to get her to keep silent about him skipping the match anyway. It wasn't like him to pass up a chance to insult her, and he always seemed to know how to hurt her the most.

She inhaled deeply and wiped her wet cheeks. If she didn't go back soon, Zofia was liable to send a search party for her. A few people gave her funny looks as she swam her way through the crowd, but most just complained that she was in their way of the match. But she knew that Zofia wouldn't just look at her. "Hermione! What happened?" Zofia yelled over the din of the crowd as soon as Hermione reached her side.

"Let's just say I now know that Malfoy doesn't want to hurt me. Not physically, at least." she added in a tone that said she didn't want to talk about it.

"I was afraid you'd run into him. Just as you left the wanker who's announcing said that Malfoy wasn't seeking today," she explained, "said he was sick."

"He looked pretty healthy to me." Now Harry's didn't sound so crazy, he really was up to something.

"So, what happened?" Zofia questioned in the library the following day.

"He just pulled me into the room and accused me of giving him a love potion. That's all," Hermione explained noncommittally.

"Oh, so that's why your eyes were red," she reasoned sarcastically.

"Well, it was just the way he accused me. He always knows how to get under my skin," she relished as she skimmed over the page of her textbook. Not only had he gotten under her skin, he was starting to get in the way of her schoolwork. It was ironic how he'd deeply complimented and deeply insulted her in the same breath. "Why can't I concentrate?" she growled to herself.

"Why do you think he accused you of giving him a love potion?" Zofia ventured pointedly.

Hermione shrugged in a pitiful attempt at evading the inquiry, but one look at her friend told her that it was unavailing. She leaned across the table so no one could overhear. "He said he couldn't stop thinking about me," she revealed.

"That would explain the staring and stalking," Zofia rationalized aloud.

"And he obviously means in a romantic way, otherwise…"

"He wouldn't have accused you of giving him a love potion," she finished.

The mere thought of it made Hermione shudder. "Exactly."

Zofia leaned back in her chair, slightly in awe over the strange change of events. For two weeks she, along with her new Gryffindor friends, had worried about her welfare and all Malfoy wanted to do was talk to her. Malfoy liked Hermione! Zofia had to stifle a laugh.

Over Hermione's head Zofia could see Malfoy as soon as he entered the library. They'd been sitting in there for hours and she was a little surprised that it had taken him so long to make an appearance. She didn't alert Hermione to his presence, but it wasn't long before she noticed him on her own.

"Ahg," she groaned, "Will he never give me peace?" Out the window she could see that very few students scattered the grounds. That probably meant it was quite chilly. She hoped that would hinder Malfoy from following her. She, on the other hand, could stand it. "I'm going outside," she explained as she collected her books.

Zofia could tell that she wanted to be alone. But as Malfoy followed her progress from across the room, she knew her solitude would be short lived.

Malfoy slowly pursued the object of his involuntary affections, trying his best not to be seen. It had been quite obvious that she'd left solely for the purpose of getting away from him. Part of him had been relieved, but the other had urged him to follow. Evidently, the latter had won out. He couldn't fully explain his need to follow her, or his need to talk to her again, but an unknown force within drove him on.

He found her sitting on a rock by the lake, the chilly breeze occasionally blowing her brown waves. He stood at a distance, staring as he did often until he remembered that there was no one around and he could actually approach her.

As he neared the boulder, he intentionally broke a stick under his foot.

Hermione turned with a start. "You!" she seethed. "Can't you just desist?"

"No," he said curtly.

Her nostrils flared as she stared daggers at him. "What did I ever do to you to deserve this?"

He pretended to think about it. "Normally, I'd say you were born, but I've got more important reasons at the moment."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not this again."

"Yes, this again!" he spat venomously. "You've done something to me and I want to know what!"

"I haven't done anything, Malfoy! Why can't you accept that?" she yelled back.

"Because…" he let his words drop. He didn't really want to explain why he couldn't accept it. He just couldn't. He couldn't possibly have true feelings for her. It just wasn't natural!

"Because you want me," she mocked his words from the previous day.

"No!" he yelled with a new fervor, surprising even himself. "This is not real! It's…" his eyes widened in near insanity. "It's witchcraft!"

Even from where he stood, Draco could see a new hatred light her eyes. "Get over yourself, you arrogant bloody bastard!" she screamed. "I have not done a thing to you! If I'd do anything I'd curse you!"

His expression softened unconsciously. Again the venom in her eyes struck a chord within him. For once, he looked at her, actually looked. The eyes that had started his unfortunate infatuation were now shining with unshed tears. Weather they were tears of anger or hurt he wasn't sure. Logic leaned toward the former, but the current state of his soul almost wished for hurt. 

Her clenched jaw relaxed and she shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze. Maybe he'd finally come to terms. But even that was little comfort. "Don't look at me like that," she requested quietly.

"It's not witchcraft?" he tried one more time.

"No," she assured him, raising her jaw before adding, "and I'll ask that you not imply that no one could like me unless I put him under a spell."

_Oh, so that's why she'd been so upset._ "I, uh, unfortunately know from personal experience that that is not true." The words left his mouth before he realized what he was saying.

Hermione looked down. She honestly wasn't sure weather she should be flattered or suspicious of what he'd just said. Though one look at his face told her that he had not meant to say such a thing; therefore showing the validity of his revelation. "Malfoy?" she said, pulling him out of his reverie.

"What?" he probed when she didn't say anything.

"I don't even know what to say," she shook her head. "You hate me."

Draco snorted sardonically, "Apparently not."

Hermione crossed her arms and debated over her next words. At that moment the reality of the situation had yet to sink in. "What are we going to do about this then?" she asked after a sufficient silence.

"Do?" he repeated in confusion.

"Yes, do. You say you like me, so what are you going to…" her words faltered as she realized what she'd just said. For a moment she couldn't even articulate a thought. "Bloody hell, you like me!" she exclaimed and fell back onto the boulder she'd been previously sitting on. "But–But you're Malfoy, you hate me! I hate you! How could this have happened?" she was practically raving.

"I'm not too thrilled about it either," Draco defended himself as he took a tentative step toward her. He wasn't sure what he should do. She was obviously upset by this realization, but Draco doubted that anything he could say or do would make it any easier to digest.

"Now I wish it were witchcraft," she snorted. "Because then I could stop it."

**A/N People please comment…thanks…. :D**


	4. SECRETS

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Four: Secrets**

Now that she knew Draco's reason for staring, Hermione became even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. She'd only told Zofia about what had transpired by the lake. It was ironic how she'd trust some she'd known for barely two weeks instead of the best friends she'd had since her first year, but she knew them well enough to know that they wouldn't take the news so well. They'd most likely want to lure him to a dark corridor and…

She shuddered. That, of course, had been her reaction at first, but then he'd shown her a whole new side. A side that a few days ago she could never have imagined possible; in all honestly, she was still finding it hard to believe. She chanced a furtive glance across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table.

A surprising surge of jealousy pulsed through her when she saw Pansy Parkinson push a lock of his white-blonde hair away from his face. Her eyes narrowed at the pug-faced girl just as Draco looked over at her. He shot a glance at Pansy then rolled his gray eyes, causing an involuntary grin to come to Hermione's lips.

"_Hermione_," Ginny whispered abrasively from her seat on the bench. "What're you doing?"

"What?" she asked innocently.

Ginny's eyes widened. "_You_ were staring at _Malfoy!_" 

"No," she corrected. "I was _glaring_ at him."

Ginny shook her head. "No, you were _grinning_ at him. Did I miss something?"

A definite blush came to Hermione's cheeks. "I'll tell you in the common room."

When she ate the last of her lunch, Hermione deliberately went strait to the library, which was honestly her routine. It had become Draco's too, apparently, because it wasn't long before he followed her through the doors. Their eyes met across the room, but no further acknowledgement was made between them. This wasn't lost on Ginny as she walked to the table and sat down beside Hermione. "Spill," she demanded.

"There's nothing to _spill_," Hermione assured her calmly, "honestly, Ginny!"

"Rubbish," retorted Ginny. "Last week you were nearly scared senseless; yet, this week you're grinning at him at lunch!" She looked at Draco (who quickly averted his eyes) then back to Hermione. "Something happened."

Hermione shrugged noncommittally. "We had a small chat."

Ginny snorted, "That must've some chat!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stood and walked to the group of shelves that contained books on Arithmacy. The two rows of shelves were at the end of an aisle in the furthest corner of the library, completely out of sight from everyone else. Considering this, Hermione couldn't help but feel a small surge of fear when Malfoy cornered her. "So, uh, what were you and young Weasleby whispering about?"

Hermione looked into his pale eyes and weighed her words carefully, "Shove off, Malfoy."

Something flashed in his eyes. Was that hurt? "We're back to this?"

Her eyes widened. "We never left this!"

Draco took hold of the shelves on either side of her, completely caging her in. Hermione's breath became rushed as she stared into his stormy eyes. What she saw in them literally scared the crap out of her. There was no dishonesty, no glint of erroneous sentiment, for once, there was only sincerity. She could have sworn it was an eternity as they stood there, their faces centimeters apart.

Then he kissed her…

By the time Hermione opened her eyes, Draco was smirking down at her, a pale eyebrow arched triumphantly. "That's what I thought." He gently cuffed her chin with the pad of his thumb and walked back down the aisle…leaving Hermione utterly speechless.

An hour later, as Hermione walked to her Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, she swore she could still detect the lingering taste of Draco on her lips. She met Harry and Ron, who'd obviously had a recent snogging session with Lavender from the disheveled look of his hair, as she entered, but she didn't notice the shared expression on their faces when they saw her. "You okay, Hermione?" asked Harry.

She looked up, surprised, as if she hadn't noticed him before then. "I'm fine."

He looked at her skeptically as Snape swept into the room and started their lesson. Not even Snape's cruel arrogance seemed to be able to take the subtle smile from Hermione's face. This wasn't lost on Professor Snape, who took great joy in seeing the disgusted terror on his student's faces. He finished a particularly gruesome story and looked to the loathsome know-it-all to find her still looking quite winsome. "Miss Granger!" he roared from the front of the classroom. "Is it going to be your constant habit to daydream in my class? Do you find the Defense Against the Dark Arts to be beneath you?"

This brought her out of her reverie. "N-no, Professor," she quickly assured him, fighting against the boiling anger that was building within her. Damn Malfoy! How could his kiss have affected her so much? She should have slapped him! Instead, he now knew that she was starting to like him too. She unconsciously shook her head. No, she didn't like Malfoy…she couldn't.

"Five points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger's inability to pay attention!" Snape told the class viperously.

Heat rose in her cheeks, giving the look of an embarrassed blush. She chanced a surreptitious glance across the room at Malfoy, whom she very well expected to see grinning at her smugly… but he wasn't. He was looking at her with what seemed to be compassion, a look that had obviously never crossed his features before.

That was nearly her downfall. _Why does he have to look so handsome?_ she asked herself. Again she felt the almost tangible touch of his lips as they stared at each other. A gasp from the class brought her attention back to the lesson. Snape had unveiled yet another macabre depiction of someone under a curse or potion, Hermione hadn't exactly been paying attention so she didn't know what the problem was, all she knew was it looked very painful.

"…Two rolls of parchment due Monday," bellowed Snape from behind his moving photo.

Hermione began to panic… two rolls of parchment on what? She left the classroom, taking care to notice that Malfoy had also missed it because he was talking to Professor Snape about the topic. She looked around the corridor for Ron. She found him lip locked with Lavender and she remembered that she was upset with him. Though, this time the sight of the snogging couple didn't make her stomach turn. Then again, she though, I can't exactly tell them the reason why I no longer care about their relationship. She'd just have to ask Harry in the common room.

A shiver ran down her spine as someone stopped directly behind her. "'The affects of the Irresolutus potion'," a voice she recognized as Draco's quoted. "That's the essay."

When she turned around he was already moving down the corridor.

After her last lesson of the day she made a short trip to the common room to ask Harry if she'd gotten the correct information from Malfoy. Surprisingly, she had. For a while she considered staying in the common room to finish the essay, but then she'd seen Ron and Lavender in their favorite chair and decided to go to the library. She was no longer jealous; she was just flat out disgusted.

She was glad to see Zofia sitting at the usual table. She sat down across from her friend, a subtle smile playing at her lips.

"You look like someone with a secret," she determined as soon as Hermione sat down.

A blush crept up her cheeks. "Is it obvious?"

Zofia's eyes widened excitedly. "What happened?"

Looking around nervously, she leaned closer. "He kissed me," she admitted. "and he told me the topic of the essay when I missed it."

"Compared to the kiss, that last part was a little disappointing," Zofia said bluntly. "How was the kiss?"

"It was great, but don't you see?" Zofia shook her head. "He helped me; honestly helped me and he didn't rub it in my face. I never thought it was in him."

"So do you fancy him then?" she challenged.

"That shall remain a secret," Hermione said firmly.

Zofia put her hands up in mock surrender as Hermione dove into her bag for the appropriate book. When she sat up a crumbled piece of parchment hit her full in the face. After getting over her shock, she grabbed the parchment and looked around suspiciously. Malfoy stared at her from the next table, not smirking or sniggering, just looking. She felt prompted to open the ball. A short note was scratched onto the torn piece. It read: _Meet me in ten minutes…you know where: a private room. _

Before looking up she debated on whether or not she should go. He had pretty much proven his sincerity, but she wasn't quite sure why he wanted to meet with her privately. In all honestly, she didn't really want to. Upon looking up, she saw the question in his eyes. While keeping eye contact, she wrote her reply, balled up the wrinkled parchment and threw it back, hitting Malfoy right between the eyes.

A few minutes later she gathered her books and stuffed them into her bag.

Zofia looked up at her in surprise. "Where are you going?"

"Uh, Harry wanted some help on the essay," she lied. Even with Snape as a teacher Harry still out did her in Defense Against the Dark Arts. As she left the library she noticed that Malfoy was no longer at the table. Her legs were strictly on autopilot as she made her way to the seventh floor corridor in which the Room of Requirement resided.

Looking around to make sure no one was lurking nearby; she inhaled deeply and began to pace repeating, "I need a private room," three times. When the door appeared, she debated one last time and pushed the door open.

Draco felt a thousand butterflies release in his stomach when the door behind him opened. He stood to see a very nervous looking Hermione leaning against the door. Not knowing exactly what he was going to do, he walked toward her.

"Wh-what do you want?" she stammered, uncertainty most apparent in her voice.

He was hardly cognizant of his actions until he was gently pressing his lips to hers. Warmth spread through him as she reciprocated and even rested her hands on his chest. He was momentarily afraid she meant push him away, but she melted into his embrace as his hands fell to possess her waist.

When he finally broke away, his patented smirk came to his lips. "That's what I wanted."

"Oh," she breathed excitedly.

He leaned in again…but she stopped him, "Wait…"

"What?" he demanded in panic. "Don't you fancy me?"

"I fancy you plenty," she assured him without thinking. "That's not what I meant. Is this all you wanted?"

His smirk turned into a teasing grin. "Well, I thought you'd want to wait…"

Hermione arched an intimidating eyebrow. "You haven't forgotten third year, have you?"

Stepping back at the memory, he made sure a good distance remained between them. "What do you mean then?" he asked, turning in frustration.

"You're just like Ron!" she accused and Draco spun around instantly. "I knew that would get your attention," she explained. "Did you only ask me here so you could snog me?"

The look that came to his pale face was absolutely comical. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

She snorted, "No! Honestly, we're nearly adults, you know." She tentatively walked to a chair and sat down. Pointing her wand at the dark fire place, she lit a merry fire that looked like it had been burning for hours. "We're supposed to have conversations and… just enjoy each other's company," she explained whimsically.

He snorted. "I thought you only read text books," he questioned sardonically.

Hermione stood from the chair and turned away from him. "I thought you were serious about this," she challenged subtly. She already knew how to get what she wanted from him. And there was no way he was going to back out after he'd made her fall for him.

"I am!" he answered defensively.

"Then start acting like it," she whimpered. From where she stood, she heard the swoosh of his robes as he sat in the chair she'd just vacated.

"Alright then, let's have a conversation," he demanded in grumpy frustration.

Smiling inwardly to herself, she turned back to him and sat triumphantly on the settee. "What's it like to know you're a wizard your whole life?" she inquired immediately, almost too enthusiastically.

He arched a pale eyebrow. "What's it like to be a muggle?"

The smile slid from her face and her shoulders slumped. "I was serious," she admonished defensively.

"As was I!" he exploded almost desperately. "_This_ is why we shouldn't have conversations."

He did have a point, they both knew it. He jumped over and sat next to her on the settee. He tentatively touched her cheek and this time she didn't stop him as he leaned in to kiss her softly. Much to her relief, he broke it after a few moments. Their faces were centimeters apart when she asked the question on both of their minds. "How did this happen?" she breathed. "We're enemies, we're meant to hate each other, and yet…"

Gently leaning his forehead to hers, Draco finished, "We can't get enough of each other."


	5. HAPPY CHRISTMAS

**Chapter Five: Happy Christmas**

Over the next weeks, the secret meetings between Draco and Hermione became more and more frequent. Between his schoolwork, working in the room of requirement, and trying to have a successful, secret relationship with Hermione, Draco was under more stress than he'd ever been in his entire life. When he looked in the mirror he could see dark circles under his eyes and he was beginning to forget what a full night's sleep was like.

Conversations with Hermione still proved difficult even after they'd been together for a couple of weeks. She was still too defensive at everything he said, and he admitted that he was still pretty offensive as well. But enjoying each other's company came almost too easily. Hermione would sit on the settee in front of the fire and read massive tomes with Draco's arm around her. He found it most distracting, but completing his schoolwork perfectly became the very last thing on his mind.

On one such occasion, Hermione smiled at him from the desk in the corner. She had been furiously writing an essay for the past half-hour, and she'd demanded that he do the same on the coffee table. If they did them side by side, they'd never get any work done. Draco knew she was right, but it didn't make him happy about it.

His essay was three-fourths of the way done. When Hermione's attention went back to her essay, Draco silently left his seat and walked to the desk. He knew she'd noticed, but she didn't say anything. He pulled her hair to one side and tenderly kissed her neck, causing her to shiver.

"You're distracting me," she whispered, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"You're done," he reminded her.

She turned around and stood up, Draco's arms automatically engulfing her waist. "You should've been in Slytherin," he said.

Hermione, whose head had been resting on his chest, looked up at him in almost hostile skepticism. "Why?"

"It would be very beneficial," he explained. "Most importantly, we wouldn't have to be so secretive,"

"But it's so fun!" she argued sarcastically.

Taking her hand, he led her to the couch and pulled her back into his arms. "Snape wouldn't yell at you so much,"

"True,"

"And we'd actually win the house cup because Slytherin would get points for every answer you got right."

"That one only benefits you!" she laughed. "Besides, you're forgetting one–no, two important things," she reminded him.

"You're muggle-born and…?"

"I'm not evil and cunning."

"Oh, right, because we're all evil," he said, trying not to sound offended…or guilty. "And you are cunning. You've broken more school rules than I have." He was surprised when she actually nestled up to him and didn't take his statement offensively. Maybe they were making progress.

"I did have good reason to break them, you know," she defended after awhile. "And that's why I belong in Gryffindor. I don't break the rules just to be breaking them."

"We just had a conversation," he realized. "Can I kiss you now?"

Hermione replied by pressing her lips to his, surprising him. But even as he deepened the kiss, it somehow felt different. He pulled away and looked into her questioning eyes. "Something's not right,"

She looked at him in astonishment… then began to grin. "You're insufferable!"

"That's more like it." He smirked. He pushed her back onto the arm of the couch and positioned himself beside her before consuming her mouth again. It was strange, he knew it, but a fluffy sort of relationship was never for him. That could explain his attraction to Hermione. They could want to curse each other one moment, and then be passionately kissing each other the next. If anything their relationship was a challenge. Not only did they have to get along when they actually came up for air, but they also had to keep it secret at all costs.

Seemingly of its own volition, Draco's hand began to creep under Hermione's skirt and up her smooth thigh.

"Draco," Hermione panted when she felt his hand, "no."

A tense silence grew between them as Draco retracted his hand. The sound of his name breathed from her lips made it that much harder. As he searched her brown eyes he could see the fear she was trying to hide. Whether she feared the intimate moment they'd just shared, or it was because she was afraid of how he'd react to her refusal, he didn't know. But his stomach lurched nevertheless because either way he had caused it.

Hermione pulled at her skirt self-consciously. "Maybe I should go."

Draco didn't know what to say, or how to stop her. He'd crossed the line and he knew it.

Over the next two days, Hermione found that ignoring Draco was almost too easy. Since they were supposed to hate each other anyway, no one noticed.

But Draco noticed. He noticed in the Great Hall while she talked with her irksome friends. He noticed in potions when she glared at Potter because he got compliments from Slughorn and she didn't. Most of all, he noticed in the library when they were alone…and she completely ignored him. She was freezing him out.

He was a Malfoy. He reminded himself of that fact many times a day. Yet, there he was…pinning over the Muggle-born girl he'd spent the first five years of his schooling mercilessly tormenting. He snorted to himself, "Muggle-born." The only other time he'd used that term was when he'd said it to Hermione.

Here we go again, his brain yelled at him. No matter what he did his thoughts kept going back to her. He fell to the floor and stared up at the damaged vanishing cabinet. The times he spent in this room with Hermione were the only thing getting him through…the only thing he ever looked forward to.

Like a storm cloud, depression fell over him with a fierce hand. He suppressed an urge to damage the cabinet even further. How could he not be mad at himself? His first attempt to fulfil his task had failed miserably! What if he always failed…?

He shuddered. He didn't even want to imagine what would happen to him if he didn't succeed. What would happen to his mum? To him? Hermione…? But she, or course, was in more danger if he did succeed.

He wouldn't be able to focus now. It was the last Hogsmeade weekend before the holidays and if he left now he could still go along with them, even though no one was expecting him. Leaving the room immediately, he practically ran to his dorm to get his cloak and then ran to the entrance where Filch was checking off the last off the students.

"Decided to go, did we?" Filch asked when he stopped him.

"Yeah." He, unlike the trio, didn't normally have a problem with Filch trying to get him in trouble.

"Go on then."

Draco ran to catch up with the other students and caught a glimpse of Hermione amongst them. Much to his relief, she was alone. He wasn't really surprised, she was supposed to be mad at Weaselby because of his–what she called–superficial relationship with some Gryffindor girl. He remembered her telling him how it was convenient because whenever she went missing, everyone thought she was just crying in a bathroom somewhere.

The walk in the cold seemed longer than usual with Hermione just out of reach, not that he could walk with her if he wanted to. They finally reached the wizard village. Draco went directly to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer and a little time to plan. Hermione was alone; he needed to talk to her as soon as possible.

When he left the establishment, the chance practically fell into his hands. Hermione was walking toward the shrieking shack…unaccompanied. He looked around to make sure no one noticed as he slipped through the crowd to follow her.

He found her sitting on a boulder just outside the fence. She was hunched over; head in her hands, and Draco could hear the soft sound of her sobs. The snow crunched under his feet. She looked up as he neared, her flustered cheeks stained with frozen tears. He ran to her side and knelt down. Tentatively he wiped her cheeks as she just stared at him in awe.

"Please tell me you're a miserable as I am," he whispered with pleading eyes.

Closing her eyes, Hermione pushed her cheek into his hand and nodded.

Draco sighed in utter relief as he pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry," he breathed into her hair.

Hermione pulled his head back and looked into his eyes for a fleeting moment before she kissed him. He wasn't quite sure what he'd said, but it worked. Draco found himself lost in her touch as he deepened the kiss; for once, he didn't care that they could get caught.

Until…"Hermione!" someone yelled, not five feet away.

Draco immediately fell backward, landing hard in the snow. "Oh, shit!"

"Calm down," Hermione admonished. "Zofia knows."

His eyes widened incredulously. "You told someone?"

"When I told her I didn't realize it would be anything serious," she explained. "She won't tell."

"Uh," Zofia interrupted. "Some people are coming this way, so I thought…"

"Oh, thanks, Zofia." Hermione stood up quickly. "Bye."

"Meet me tonight," said Draco before she walked away. She turned and smiled at him; she'd be there.

Draco paced in front of the wall and hurriedly entered when the door appeared. He couldn't wait to get inside and talk to Hermione. At first, he'd just been glad they were no longer in a quarrel, but he'd just heard some interesting gossip.

Not five minutes ago he'd eaves-dropped on a conversation between Potter and Weaselby. Normally, the red-head's discontent would delight him, but not this time.

"How can she go with him?" Weasley had yelled from around the corner.

"Who?" Potter asked.

"Cormac McLaggen!"

Draco had smiled, his white teeth practically glittering in the light of the corridor, until…

"Hermione can go with whoever she wants, Ron."

Even now it made his blood boil.

Hermione sat in a chair by the fire, book in her lap, and looked up at his entrance. The glow of the firelight made her look so innocent and soft. But Draco did his best to ignore that.

"I heard something rather interesting in the corridor just now," he began immediately.

Her eyes dimmed. "Really? About whom?"

"You," he answered in feigned brightness. "It seems that Weasel in under the impression that you are going to Slughorn's Christmas party with Cormac McLaggen."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione went back to her book. "I wonder what gave him that idea," she muttered sarcastically.

"You can't go with him!"

"Draco! Now you really do sound like Ron!" she yelled.

Much to her surprise, he didn't move to break anything; on the contrary, he agreed, "Maybe he has a point."

"What?" she managed to squeak. "Did you think I would take you?"

He looked down guiltily and shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "I know you can't, I just don't want my girlfriend to go out with some other guy."

He heard a book close and the next thing he knew Hermione was standing in front of him, a huge smile on her face. "You just called me your girlfriend," she said and he nodded. "You've never called me you girlfriend before."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Draco planted a soft kiss on her lips. "So?"

"I wish I could take you but we both know why I can't."

He let go and turned away from her. "Yeah, but McLaggen?"

Hermione blushed before revealing, "I only did it because I figured he'd upset Ron the most."

His smirk returned but he didn't face her. "And as happy as that makes me, I still don't like it."

"It doesn't mean anything," she assured him. "and if he tries anything–"

"I'll make him wish he'd never been born."

Mistletoe. How could she forget? It was a Christmas party; of course Slughorn would find it amusing to hang mistletoe…everywhere. And Cormac, who was nothing short of a cretin, seemed to be especially good at getting her under it.

On the fourth such occasion, Hermione narrowly escaped his lips and fled into the crowd. Harry and Luna had to be there somewhere. She shouldn't have let her feelings towards Ron effect her judgement. If Draco knew what Cormac was up to, he'd curse him. Then again, maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

She finally found Harry through the crowd. "Ah, I'm so glad to see you," she panted.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" asked Luna with her wide, dreamy eyes.

"It's Cormac, he keeps trying to kiss me under the mistletoe. And it's everywhere!" She looked around like a fugitive and spotted his head. "Let's move." She pushed them in the other direction.

"Regret it?" Harry asked in almost smug satisfaction.

Hermione defended herself as the three of them got some mead. Harry didn't at all understand her reasons; he was only concerned with how her actions would affect Ron's Quidditch game. Quidditch! She was absolutely tired of hearing about Quidditch! Sure, Draco was on the Slytherin team, but he hardly ever talked about it. Maybe that's why she liked him.

She was going on about their obsession with Quidditch when she saw Cormac's head again. The last she wanted was for him to catch her. "Here he comes," she groaned and escaped through the people.

For the next few minutes she just dodged around other partygoers, always making sure she was heading away from McLaggen. As she looked around, she caught sight of a white-blonde head being lead to Professor Slughorn. "Oh, Draco…" she breathed and pushed to get a better view.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" Draco spat as he pulled away from Filch. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

Hermione didn't hear Filch's response. Draco looked in her direction and their eyes locked.

Draco wasn't too upset until he saw Hermione and the disappointment in her eyes. Just that afternoon he'd promised her he wouldn't do anything stupid, yet, there he was doing the stupidest thing he could have done.

"…forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco." Slughorn was saying.

Draco frowned. He didn't really want to stay. He didn't want to see Hermione with McLaggen. It was easy to ignore it when he was in his room, but if he actually saw them, it would be hard to hold in his jealousy and anger.

Remembering he should be grateful, he composed himself and thanked Slughorn. After awkward pleasantries had been exchanged, he looked at Snape, who didn't look too happy either. _Great_, Draco thought, _he thinks I was working and got caught._

Snape requested to have 'a word' with him. Draco inwardly rolled his eyes; he was sure he wanted more than a word. He followed nevertheless. He was only half-right. Snape suspected that he was behind the attack on Katie Bell. Draco really had to control his thoughts on that one. Who else would do it? It was a pathetic attempt, he knew it, but he'd been pretty distracted in the past months.

Draco tried to control his thoughts and his anger as Snape went on. He just wanted the credit; if it weren't for the consequences, Draco would let him do it. But there were consequences, and as much as he didn't want to do it, he had no choice. When Snape brought up his father he'd had enough.

Even though she was away from her friends, Hermione usually enjoyed spending the Holiday's with her parents. Not this year. The Christmas party with Cormac had been a disaster and she'd left right after Snape had led out Draco. At the station she'd barely gotten to say good-bye to Ginny and Harry, and Ron had been too busy to notice.

She pulled the blankets closer to her chin and sighed. Her digital alarm clock read a quarter past three in the morning but she still couldn't sleep. For some reason it just didn't feel like Christmas this year. Maybe it was because she hadn't gotten to say anything to Draco before they'd left. The first time she'd had a serious boyfriend around the Holidays and she hadn't even been able to wish him a Happy Christmas.

A sharp tap on her window startled her. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and gapped at her window. A cloaked Draco was hovering on his broom just outside. Pulling on her robe, she rushed to open the window and let him fly in. Before she could ask or yell anything he had pulled her into a desperate kiss.

When he finally pulled away it was simply to catch his breath. "Did you fly all the way here on your broom?" she asked, taking advantage of the break.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I wanted to give you this." He pulled a small, wrapped box from his cloak and handed it to her.

"But I didn't get you anything."

Draco shrugged. "Oddly enough, I don't care."

She smiled in a way that made him wonder what she was thinking and tore into the small parcel. Inside was a necklace with a fine platinum chain and an oval locket. She unconsciously dropped the box as she took the locket in her hands and gently pried it open. It held of picture of him in his Quidditch robes, smirking as usual, but the other side was blank. "It's beautiful, thank you."

"My mum helped pick it out," he explained. It was the first time he'd actually bought a gift for someone else.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Your mum?"

"I told her it was for Pansy." He shuddered.

She couldn't help but laugh at his look of disgust even though she felt the same way about the girl. "I hate it when she touches you," she admitted quietly.

"You?" he snorted. "I'm the one she's touching!" Hermione laughed. "Hey, it's not funny!"

"Shh, you'll wake my parents."

"Right," he sighed. "I should probably get back before someone notices I'm gone." He wrapped his arms around her waist once more and kissed her. This, of course, made him even more loath to leave. "Happy Christmas, Hermione," he breathed and begrudgingly climbed onto his broom.

"Happy Christmas," she said, regretful that he had to go.

During the trip there he'd tried to convince himself that what he felt for her was purely physical. He just wanted an intimate relationship with someone who hadn't snogged half the wizards at Hogwarts. But Hermione wasn't the only respectable witch and if all he wanted was physical, she was the last person he'd go for.

As the cold air blew against his face he realized just how pathetic that argument was; he'd just flown hundreds of miles to wish her a Happy Christmas.


	6. TOGETHER

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't' recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.  
**Chapter Six: Together**

It was finally Friday. Hermione sat in her Arithmacy class and fingered her locket. For two weeks she'd been concealing it under her shirt, but it was never far from her mind. Neither was the person who'd given it to her.

She'd barely been able to talk to Draco all week. They hadn't arranged to meet that night, but she planned on going to the room anyway. She hoped he'd show up too.

Two hours later she was sitting across from a roaring fire, her Arithmacy book in her lap. He would be there; she knew it. He wouldn't be expecting to find her, but he'd be there. She was right.

Hermione immediately looked up when the door in the corner opened with a bang. Her pulse quickened without her consent when she saw Draco enter and make his way toward the settee on which she sat. In the glow of the firelight she could see that he wasn't exactly happy. But then, he hadn't been happy very often all year. She unconsciously moved back in her seat and tried to mask her disconcertment.

"What're you doing in here?" he asked, surprising her with the calmness of his tone.

"Uh," she faltered momentarily. "Research." She wasn't particularly sure why she'd just lied to him, but she still didn't trust him completely. Sure, they'd been together for nearly three and a half months, but that didn't mean she was going to trust him with how she really felt. She was loath to admit it to herself. Besides, he was still a Slytherin and a Malfoy.

A pale eyebrow arched, he'd seen right through her. "Research," he repeated with a nod. Sitting on the coffee table in front of her, he bore into her with knowing eyes. "So you weren't waiting for me to come in here and find you?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare. Of course she'd been waiting for him! What else would she be doing in that room? She knew her lie had been flimsy at best; he of all people knew she did all of her research in the library. Without noticing, her breath became labored and she crossed her legs tightly. "No."

If he hadn't caught on before, her breathless lie gave her away. Draco gently placed his hands on her knees and slowly closed the space between them, keeping his eyes locked with hers. "You didn't want me to…?"

The almost imperceptible touch of his lips on hers caused a sensation of ecstasy to run ramped throughout her entire body. She'd never known it could be like this… that _he_ could be like this. As he backed away, eyes still locked, a small smirk came to her lips. "No."

There was no trace of humor or teasing in his tempestuous gray eyes as he took one of her hands and kissed the palm. He looked so much older, so much more mature than she knew him to be. She closed her eyes to break the almost tangible connection between them; it was just too much for her to handle. Whatever she'd expected when she'd come here, this wasn't exactly it.

When she opened her eyes his face was dangerously close again. She automatically put her finger on his lips to stop him. "No!" Quickly getting to her feet, the book in her lap crashed to the floor. She walked several meters from him before she chanced turning around to face him. "What's happening here?" she challenged breathlessly.

As he stood to approach her, she instinctively turned from him. She couldn't face him when she felt like this… couldn't chance him kissing her again. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind and she could feel his warm, labored breath on her ear as he kissed her neck…her weak spot. "I think you know…"

Taking a firm hold on her hips, he turned her in his embrace. It seemed like an eternity before their lips met. Soft and slow at first, it wasn't long before Draco had had enough. He pulled her closer, deepening his kiss as she granted him access to her mouth. He had dreamed of this moment for months. He hoped he wasn't dreaming now.

Draco's hold on her was bone crushing, yet she still wanted to be closer to him. She pushed her hands over his chest and into his pale hair. His mouth consumed hers, preventing her from breathing, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away. As he began to kiss a line from her mouth to her neck, she threw her head back to give him greater admission.

He could feel her whole body tremble as he gently caressed her breast. He was as much a novice at this as she was, but he'd never admit it to her. He needed her; he needed to be with her…like this. "Let me make love to you…" he whispered seductively in her ear.

As he brought his head back to look into her eyes, Hermione desperately searched his eyes for any sign of humor, but instead found a burning need that matched her own. Even if she wanted to she couldn't have said no, but her conscious wouldn't seem to let her say yes.

"Hermione…"

Her affirmation was a kiss; a kiss in which she fused everything she was feeling, everything she desperately hoped he would accept with the delicacy it deserved. She didn't know why but when he said her name, especially in the sultry way he did, she couldn't deny him anything. Even the most precious thing she possessed.

Draco reluctantly pulled away and momentarily looked down at her. Damn, she was beautiful, especially in the firelight. Just the sound of her excited breath tantalized his very being. Suddenly he realized the extent of what he'd been feeling for the past few months. He loved her.

Pulling out his wand, he pointed at the emerald divan and it immediately transformed into a queen-sized bed. Hermione's hold on his hand tightened. As they reached the bed, Draco looked in her eyes. He could see the torrent of emotions flooding the brown pools; he felt them too. He only hoped he concealed them better, but he doubted it. "You're so amazing," he whispered as he tenderly ran a finger down her jaw line.

But when he saw the pure innocence that was emitted from every inch of her, he felt the need to be sure. True, she hadn't said no, but she most definitely had not said yes. "You don't have to do this," he assured her compassionately. "I'm not pressuring you."

"I-I know…" She surprised him by pulling his head down to meet hers. She was sure, but if he asked her again then her underlying fear get the best of her.

Draco lowered her back onto the bed. As long as they were kissing, Hermione could ignore the fact that he was unbuttoning her shirt, or that he probably expected her to do the same in return. Then she realized that as if they had a mind of their own, her fingers were already doing just that.

His pale chest was warm under her hands as she pushed his shirt over his shoulders. When her own shirt came off, she was surprised to find she didn't feel as shy as she thought she would. It felt normal… right. She smiled at Draco coyly as he threw her bra on the floor and eyed her bare chest. She could feel his excitement pressing into her thigh and she found it hard to breathe. This was really happening; he was going to make love to her…and she couldn't wait.

Her fingers lightly trailed down his chest to his belt and she unbuckled it in no time. One of Draco's arms propped him up and the other pulled on her skirt. Hermione lifted her hips so he could slip it off. At the same time he kicked off his trousers as he kissed her collarbone. Only a very thin piece of fabric separated them now.

Hermione's heart thundered in her chest. Was she really ready? Did she really want him to? She looked into his eyes; she swore she could see the same uncertainty. But she also saw the same want… same need. She needed him to be inside her…physically… emotionally… spiritually.

Moments later her knickers were off and he was kissing her again. She pushed her hips against him. Now she was truly sure; now she needed it. He stared into her eyes as he cautiously pushed into her.

She inhaled sharply. "Gently," she whimpered as he pushed further.

Draco closed his eyes with pleasure. Even if this were a dream he'd at least wake up happy. He was with her, finally. But as he held himself over her, gently pumping, he knew it was more than a physical need that he was satisfying. He loved her and somehow he had to prove it to her.

She moaned under him as he licked her neck. "_Draco_…" 

A/N: I know it seems like things are moving fast between Draco and Hermione, but let me assure you that their intimacy is crucial to the plot. Thanks.


	7. REALITY

**A/N:** Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Seven: Reality**

Hermione slowly opened her eyes. The smile on her face faded as she realized she was still in the room of requirement. It had to be at least nine o'clock. Granted, it was Saturday, but someone was bound to notice that she wasn't inside the curtains of her bed.

She turned over to see Draco smiling at her. "It's five o'clock," he told her before she could ask. "Good morning." He kissed her.

"Morning? I've only been asleep for three hours." She yawned.

His hand moved under the sheets, a mischievous grin on his face. "We still have three hours before we should leave."

She looked at him in feigned confusion. "What's your point?"

He kissed her shoulder and made his way to her lips. In moments Hermione was pressing into him with the same excitement she'd felt the night before. When they collapsed back onto the bed once more, Draco glanced over at her as she caught her breath. The subtle layer of perspiration on her skin reflected the firelight causing her to literally glow. "I love you," he whispered.

"What?"

He hesitated. "I-I love you."

Hermione searched his eyes. Nothing seemed different like it was described in books; he looked at her the way he always did when they were alone. Maybe he'd always…

"I know I sound mental; you don't have to say anything." He kissed her. "I just thought I should tell you."

Letting his arms pull her to his chest, she nestled up to him. "We have a bond now, you know."

"That's kind of what I was attempting to express."

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him. "Call me whimsical, but we do. We both gave each other something we can't give anyone else."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think–?"

Hermione challenged him with a raised eyebrow of her own.

"Oh, fine, I was a virgin, too," he admitted.

He felt a soft kiss on his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his left arm where it rested on the mattress. More specifically, he could see the distinct mark on his wrist. If Hermione ever found out, she'd never speak to him again. Well, that probably wasn't true. She'd talk to him; she'd insult him and torment him to the end of his sanity. Most likely though, she'd turn him in. He wouldn't blame her if she did.

"I'm glad," she whispered.

For a second, Draco wasn't sure what she was commenting on, the fact that he'd been a virgin or that he wouldn't blame her if she turned him in. Either way, he agreed, "Yeah, me too."

Hermione couldn't stop smiling. _It's a good thing it's Saturday_, she thought as she sat smiling in the library. If she were in DADA right now Snape would probably yell at her for smiling so much. Zofia was sitting across from her, intently studying her Ancient Runes and not noticing how dazed her friend looked. But a sigh from Hermione elicited her attention. "Why are you smiling so much?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm just happy."

"Uh huh, and why?" Hermione blushed. "Did you…?" Zofia's eyes widened. "You did!"

"Shh, you can't tell anyone," Hermione reminded her hastily.

"That's a given, but wow. I never thought you had it in you." Zofia mouthed 'Malfoy' as she shook her head.

"It's not as if I planned it; it just happened," Hermione defended herself.

"Did you do anything to stop it?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "But you don't understand what it's like with him. When he talks to me the way he does, I can't say no."

Zofia's green eyes became concerned. "You know, I don't think that's a good thing."

"You think I don't know that? I just can't help it."

A tall shadow was thrown over their table. "What's the matter, Granger?" an all-too-familiar voice sneered behind her. "Finally give Potter what he wants?"

She slowly turned around to face Malfoy, who was tailed by Crabbe and Goyle as ever. Venom filled her eyes with the same intensity that happiness had just moments before. The irony that the same person had elicited both emotions so strongly wasn't lost on her.

When she didn't respond, Crabbe and Goyle punched each other stupidly and followed their pale leader out of the library. "You're gonna regret that, Malfoy," she threatened through clenched teeth. "You're gonna regret the day you took advantage of Hermione Granger."

Draco had implored her to meet him again that night. She checked her reflection in the mirror to make sure she looked perfect. She wasn't going to let what happened in the library stop her from going, but she had a feeling that Draco was going to be a little disappointed when she got there.

No one was in the corridor, so she pushed through the door. A fire had already been lit in the fireplace. Draco stood staring into the flames serenely; it almost made Hermione question her determination. Then he smiled and began to walk toward her. "That was some good acting," he complimented. "I almost believed that you wanted to curse me."

"Really?" she asked brightly. Then her face changed, quickly and drastically. "That was real."

He began to look concerned. "What do you mean?"

"How dare you!" she screamed and starting hitting him wherever she possibly could. "I trusted you! You told me you loved me so you could use me!"

"Hermione, stop!" he pleaded and ran from her. "I do love you! I didn't mean that stuff; I thought you knew that."

She stopped hitting him.

"Besides, I told you I love after I, uh, used you, as you say." He reminded her.

She still wasn't convinced. She hit him again. "You bastard!"

The angry look had returned to her eyes and he decided it was best to run from her again. Bravery definitely was not a Slytherin quality. "I flew," he continued, "hundreds of miles in the freezing cold to give you a Christmas present!"

This stopped her. Unconsciously her finger touched the outline of the locket under her shirt. Draco relaxed and stopped running. "No doubt you wanted to shag me then," She retorted with less fervor.

He snorted; he'd wanted to shag her long before then. "I'm sorry," he said after a good silence. "It was just a cover. If you keep smiling at me, people are bound to get suspicious." He tentatively reached out to her and she came to him willingly.

"It was just Crabbe and Goyle; they're denser than lead."

Draco cupped her face with his pale fingers. "I'm sorry," he reiterated.

There it was. Her pulse sped up and before she realized what she was doing, her lips were on his. His tongue pressed into her mouth. When he said things like that, things that were so normal, yet she knew they difficult and utterly abnormal to him, she couldn't resist him; she had to have him. It was a real problem.

As he kissed her neck, Hermione caught a glimpse of the bed in front of the fireplace. A smile parted her lips, letting a moan escape. Either the bed had just been there from the morning, or Draco had changed it in anticipation of what was to come. Hermione didn't care how it got there, she was just glad it was. And as she pushed Draco onto it, she could tell he was too.

A sudden surge of vixen-like lust pulsed through her veins. She straddled his hips and he pushed her skirt to her waist, pulling on her knickers when he reached them. Hermione tore a few buttons off his shirt in her haste to get it off, her own shirt didn't have a single remaining button on speak of.

The previous evening they'd both been full of doubt and they'd taken it slow, unknowingly easing each other into the idea other becoming so intimate with someone…so open and vulnerable. They'd had so much to lose and yet so much to give that it terrified them. What probably terrified them most, though, was not knowing if the other person felt the same; if the person they were making love to actually loved them back.

But that wasn't the case this night. They no longer had something invaluable that could never be returned, but they had everything to give. Now they were lovers who had to be together; they had to be one, not just physically, but spiritually. A force within them drove them into each other's arms with a passion they'd never known could exist.

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine as Draco kissed her neck in the way that she knew only he could ever do. Their clothes were everywhere, hanging off of different pieces of furniture and on the floor. Hermione pushed him back into the mattress, but flipped her on her back. He liked to be in charge; that aspect of his Malfoy heritage was definitely still there. Besides, as he pushed into her, she didn't really seem to mind.

Her hips pressed into him, begging for more. She couldn't get enough. Time flew and soon they were crashing back to the mattress, totally spent…for the time being.

Draco propped up his head on his arm and stared at her. She had a visible aura around her from the firelight. It was the first time in his life that blood hadn't mattered, or even been mentioned. Hermione smiled over at him. When he was with her, he forgot about the state of the world; he forgot about the Dark Lord, the mark on his arm and his task. He forgot that his family would never accept her because she was a Mudblood; hell, he forgot she was one. When he was with her he was just…with her.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice when Hermione's smile fell from her face. She'd seen it, there on his arm, clear and heartbreaking. Harry was right, not that she'd ever disagreed with him, but there was all the proof he ever needed. She'd been in complete denial.

Quickly composing her face before he registered the changed, she searched for her clothes and reached for the nearest articles: her shirt and skirt. Her bare back was exposed as she reached over the side; Draco traced a line down her spine. Feeling suddenly shy, she slipped the buttonless shirt over her shoulders and pulled it shut.

"It's a little late for modesty, isn't it?" he teased.

Hermione had to concentrate to keep her voice even. "I just need a shower."

They had discovered that morning that their private room also had a private bathroom with a shower. Hermione pulled on her knickers, which she'd just found in the sheets and decided she was at least covered.

"Are you going to leave?" he pouted.

"I need to sleep tonight, Draco," she lied. "I'm not a machine."

She escaped into the bathroom before the tears she'd been holding at bay came out in a flood. Falling back against the wall, she slowly slid to the floor. "Shit," she hissed and hit her fists on the floor. "Shit!"

Somehow she managed to stand and actually take her shower, letting the hot water run over her. Her boyfriend was a Death Eater. The man she was falling in love with was a Death Eater. She leaned her forehead against the steamy wall. No, the man she loved was a Death Eater. "Shit."

When she finally left the room, Draco kissed her. She swore his lips burned.


	8. TORN

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.**Chapter Eight: Torn**

Hermione collapsed onto her four-poster bed and let her tears flow freely. He was a Death Eater, that was that. Her choices were obvious, but that didn't make the debate any easier.

The next evening Hermione anxiously paced in her empty dorm. Never in her life had she been so torn. She had seen the dark mark on Draco's arm, plain as day and she hated him for it. She knew it was her responsibility to tell the headmaster… but she loved Draco. She would simply fall apart if he were sent to Azkaban because of her. On the other hand, he was up to something…something that could cause a lot of pain.

Deciding on her course of action, Hermione set out for the common room. Harry sat in a chair by the fire, pouring over the Marauder's Map as usual. She sat next to him; he'd give her the information she wanted without asking for it.

"He's in the prefect bathroom," he told her, assuming she knew he meant Malfoy.

"But he's not a prefect this year," she reminded him in confusion.

"Yeah, but he's still Malfoy."

Hermione nodded. She waited a few moments before leaving the tower. She wasn't even sure if Dumbledore was there, but if all else failed, she could always tell Professor McGonagall. As she walked down the corridor, though, her determination began to wear away. How would she sleep at night knowing she'd sent the man she loved to a terrible fate?

She stopped dead in her tracks; no, she couldn't do it. She was suddenly overcome with a powerful urge to see him. Turning around, she headed in the opposite direction toward the prefect bathroom. She really hoped he was alone.

Although she hadn't encountered anyone, she looked around anxiously as she approached the door. It was locked. She took out her wand and pointed it at the door, "Alohamora."

She stuck her head in the door to make sure he was alone. Not only was he alone, but, much to her relief, he had pants on as well. She slipped in all the way and shut the door.

Draco whipped around at the sound of the door closing. His pale, wet hair hung in his face and dripped onto his well-muscled chest. "Hermione?" he asked in astonishment. "What're you doing here?"

"I–" she hesitated. "I really needed to see you."

Quickly pulling a shirt over his shoulders, left arm first, he walked toward her without buttoning. Hermione knew he'd put the shirt on solely to conceal the mark she'd already seen, but she tried not to think about it. "Needed?" he asked. But before he reached her he must have realized how odd the situation was because he stopped. "How did you know I was here?"

Since this wasn't her original destination, she hadn't come up with a plausible lie. As it were, she simply accused him in return. "Considering that you're no longer a prefect, I could ask why you are here."

He arched a pale eyebrow. "Fair enough." He closed the remaining space between them and pulled her chin up with his finger. "I think I'm rubbing off on you," he teased.

Hermione laughed tensely, "Please don't say that."

Draco tenderly cupped her face with one hand and kissed her slowly. After a few moments, though, he felt a tear touch his lips…a tear that definitely didn't belong to him. He broke away and looked at her with more concern than he'd ever felt before. "Is something wrong?"

She smiled pathetically as another tear rolled down her cheek. "No," she lied. She couldn't exactly tell him she felt guilty because she almost turned him in. Then again, they didn't exactly have a relationship based on honesty. "I just wanted to be with you," she breathed.

He didn't believe her for one second, but he didn't want to pry. He'd learned that if she wanted him to know something, she'd tell him when she was ready and not a moment before. He left her long enough to get the rest of his stuff then took her hand. She looked at him in question when he opened the door and walked into the corridor still holding her hand.

"What if someone sees?" she asked with concern.

"You can modify memories, can't you?" 

She blushed. "Right."

As it were, they didn't run into anyone as they made their way to the seventh floor. She really hoped Harry had put the map away.

Another tear ran down her cheek as they entered their room, hand in hand. Draco immediately kissed her, but he felt another tear against his lips. He had decided not to ask what was wrong, but now something told him he should. "Something is wrong, Hermione," he said firmly.

"Don't talk," she demanded excitedly. "Just…" She pulled his head back down to hers. She needed to be reminded of why she was saving him, why she loved him.

Draco didn't need to be told twice. He pushed her against the wall, pressing into her with the whole length of his body. His hand moved under her skirt, tugging her knickers down until they fell to the floor around her ankles. She inhaled sharply when he slipped his fingers between her legs. Hermione instinctively undid his pants, freeing him. They were completely lost in each other.

Retracting his hand, Draco brought Hermione's legs around his waist and pushed into her. A moan from deep in her throat escaped her lips; she was enjoying this. The wall definitely had its advantages. Her hands pulled at his hair and kept his head to her neck.

Her back arched out from the wall as her climax hit. She had reasons now; she'd made the right decision.

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short. Hermione may seem like just a lusty teen, but she's really not. She just needed to know that she was making the right decision.


	9. CONFESSION'S AFTERMATH

**Chapter Nine: Confession's Aftermath**

In order to keep her mind off of the fact that she was pretty much harboring a criminal, Hermione focused on her studies even more than usual. After Ron had gotten released from the infirmary, he'd finally ended things with Lavender, unwittingly with Hermione's help, so her excuse to get away so much had quickly vanished. People wondered where she was now. Consequently, she could only meet Draco on the weekends, and that was hard enough.

Hermione missed him. Not just because she didn't get to see him often, but she missed her naïve image of him. Dreams that had once made her smile returned to the nightmares she'd had at the beginning of term. Only now, he actually killed her. It was getting harder to look him in eye and smile.

But she still felt she'd made the right choice. She loved Draco, surely people could understand that. Well, Ron and Harry probably wouldn't. Since Ron's…attack, Harry had been ranting about Malfoy even more. Hermione really tried not to think about the mark on Draco's arm that proved he'd been behind it. It hardly ever worked.

After a particularly gruesome dream, she woke up in a cold sweat only to see Draco staring at her. She nearly fell off the bed. His face immediately looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," she lied and pulled the blanket up to her chin. She tried to smile, but it came out as more of a wince.

He arched an eyebrow; he knew she was lying. He'd seen the terror in her eyes when she'd seen him. Why did he continuously have this effect on her? When he pushed a lock of hair from her face, he felt her whole body tense momentarily. "Hermione," he breathed.

"It was just a dream," she admitted nervously.

"From the look in your eyes I'd say it was more than just a dream. Was it about me?"

Hermione shook her head too quickly. "No. I don't want to talk about it."

Draco propped himself onto his elbow. "It was about me."

"I don't want to talk about it!" she reiterated firmly.

"What did I do? Did I hurt you?"

Hermione sat up indignantly and yelled, "Can't you take a bleeding hint?"

"You looked terrified! Shouldn't I be concerned?" 

He had her there. "Yes, but you should also respect the fact that I don't want to talk about it! Oh, wait, I forgot, Malfoys don't respect anything but themselves!"

Draco wasn't stupid; he knew people said such things about him. Only, when Hermione said it, it actually hurt. A very tense silence ensued between them until Hermione turned away. After a few agonizing moments, Draco gently kissed her shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "You killed me," she finally whispered.

"What?"

"In the dream, you killed me."

"Harry, you've got to come to the meetings again; Slughorn is driving the rest of us mad!" Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"You could just not go," suggested Ron from his seat next to Harry.

"I got the information I needed; why should I go?"

Her brow furrowed and she looked to Ron for support. Unfortunately, she immediately realized it was in vain; the fact that he wasn't invited was still a sore spot. She crossed her arms. "Fine."

As she sat through the meeting, she wished she hadn't gone either. Professor Slughorn kept looking at the door, hoping Harry would walk through it. Consequently, she was thoroughly irked by the time he let them out, fifteen minutes late. She was meeting Draco and she wasn't happy that she was going to be late.

When she finally arrived in the room, it was obvious that Draco wasn't happy either.

"You're late, I was beginning to think you weren't coming." Draco had really been afraid she wouldn't come. After the week he'd had, he really needed to see her.

"Slughorn kept us forever. He was convinced that Harry was coming this time." She rolled her eyes at the same time as Draco.

"Slug club," he muttered bitterly under his breath.

"You're not still upset about that are you?" Hermione fell back into the chair and shook her head.

"It's bullshit!"

Hermione looked at him with chastising eyes. "It's not as if he hasn't invited you because you're a bad wizard."

"My father was in it, so why in the hell hasn't he invited me?" he ranted.

Hermione had had enough. "Maybe because your _father_ is an infamous Death Eater," she yelled. "And I dare say you are one yourself!" Hermione covered her mouth when she realized what she said.

Draco wheeled around; his gray eyes a storm of anger and fear. "How dare you!" he exploded.

She jumped out of her chair. "How dare me? How dare you!" she spat back. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think I couldn't see it on you arm? Staring me in the face? Reminding me of what I'm doing?"

Draco couldn't speak. His brain kicked into autopilot and he raced from the room. She knew. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was on the sixth floor, heading toward the boy's lavatory. When pushed through the door, he had to hold onto a sink to keep from collapsing to the floor. She knew. His knuckles were ghostly white as he clutched the porcelain surface.

"Draco?" cooed an unearthly voice behind him. "What's wrong?"

He closed his eyes in a vain effort to hold in the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. "Not now, Myrtle," he managed to choke.

"Now, now, what is it?" she tried again.

His breath caught in his throat; even if he wanted to he couldn't have explained the situation. He was too shocked to speak. She knew. Why hadn't she told him? Why hadn't she left him, or at least yelled at him? Furthermore, why hadn't she told anyone else? "She knows, I can't do it."

"Don't," she crooned. "Don't…tell me what's wrong…I can help you…"

"No." Draco's body began to shake. "No one can help me. I can't do it…. And if I don't …he'll kill me." The tears he'd been holding in now poured out of his eyes like a flood. An inexplicable fear and hopelessness gripped him; there was no way out, he finally understood that. He gasped, trying to get oxygen through his constricted throat. He looked in the mirror. "Shit."

There behind him stood Harry Potter, the loath Boy Who Lived. He wheeled around and automatically pulled out his wand. Just because he loved Hermione didn't mean he didn't wish for the demise of the famous Harry Potter. He cast his hexes but Harry blocked them several times.

Myrtle screamed, something behind him exploded and Draco decided these childish hexes would never work. "Cruci–"

Harry had a wild look in his eyes. "SECTUMSEMPRA!"

No words could describe the pain that ripped through Draco's body. His skin was literally sliced by an unseen force. The floor around him was covered in his blood, just like his whole body. Harry kneeled at his side but he couldn't find his wand to get him back.

Then Snape came out of nowhere and performed the counter-curse on him. He helped Draco to his feet and guided him out of the bathroom after telling Harry to wait for him there. Snape took him to the hospital and explained what had happened to Madam Pomfrey in whispers.

Hermione listened in horror as Harry described what had happened. Draco was in the hospital recovering from the incident, and she couldn't go visit him because that would raise too much suspicion. "I told you that book was no good," she said, desperately trying to hold in what she really wanted to say. She really wanted to scream at him, and the fact that he'd gotten detention was no consolation.

She didn't see him in the Great Hall for two days, but he looked fine when he returned. He didn't return to the library though as Hermione sat with Zofia, pretending to do her work. For a week she went to their usual meeting places…but he was never there.

Tears stained her pillow every night. When she sat a few feet away from him, and he refused to meet her gaze, she could barely hold in her emotions. Harry and Ron didn't notice; they were too busy worrying about the Quidditch final without Harry.

The worst part was that she couldn't tell anyone what was happening inside of her. She could tell Zofia they were fighting, but that made it sound too simple. They weren't just fighting; she was afraid that this was really the end. It seemed hopeless.

A renegade tear slid down her cheek and she violently wiped it away. "I can't study," she told Zofia in frustration. She gathered her things and stood. "I need to go for a walk."

Zofia looked at her with curiosity and concern. "Okay,"

Before Hermione was truly cognizant of her movements, she was tracing the familiar path to the seventh floor.

Draco slammed his textbook shut, causing several people in the Slytherin common room to look over at him. But they all went back to their work after one challenging look from him. His book didn't have the information he needed for his essay; he needed to go to the library and get another resource. The only problem was he knew that Hermione would be there and he couldn't face her.

_But she knew before_, his brain stubbornly reminded him, and you love her. True, he loved her, and since he'd come to the morbid realization that he probably wouldn't be alive much longer, he knew he should spend as much time with her as he possibly could. But the question that continually haunted him was _does she love me?_ Sure, he'd seen what he thought was love in her eyes, but she'd never said it.

Besides, he almost put an unforgivable curse on her best friend. Granted, he was the one who'd ended up getting painfully shredded, but he'd still had the malicious intent against Potter, and something told him that Potter wouldn't fail to mention that.

He suddenly felt a new surge of malice against Potter hit him. Now he wanted to work on his task; anything to bring the famous Harry Potter. It no longer had anything to do with the Dark Lord or his family; it was personal. Only Draco, with the selfish Malfoy qualities that had been instilled in him since his birth, failed to realize that the task that he'd been given wasn't personal; his task, if completed successfully, would have an effect on the whole world, and a very negative effect on the woman he loved.

But these thoughts never crossed his mind as he left the Slytherin common room and took his familiar short cut to the Room and Requirement. He tried not to think about the fact that he normally took this route when he was going there to be with Hermione.

Yet, whom should he find walking down the corridor toward him?

Hermione stopped as she noticed him, head down, not immediately realizing that she was there. When he looked up even from where she stood five feet way she could see the dark circles under his fierce eyes that were akin to her own. Apparently she wasn't the only one who was miserable and frustrated at the world.

They stood at a short distance for sometime, just staring at each other in the blaring silence. Hermione was the first to speak. "Why are you avoiding me?"

All thoughts of his task and revenge left him when he saw the raw pain in her chocolate eyes. Without a word to her, he paced in front of the room until the door appeared and he pulled her inside. She made no protests to speak of, though there were many in her mind. She was just happy that she was with him again. Draco, on the other hand, was dreading the looming conversation.

Draco paced in frustration in front of Hermione as she watched in silence. "How–" he finally tried. "How can you even look at me when you know who I truly am? I can barely look at myself!"

Deep concern never left her eyes as she approached him and forced him to look her in the eye. "That…thing on your arm isn't who you truly are, and your shame proves that."

He closed his eyes and wondered how his vile skin wasn't burning someone so innocent. "How long have you known?" Draco opened his eyes when she didn't answer. "How long?" he reiterated.

"Remember when I came to the bath?"

His eyes widened. "You've known since then?"

"Actually the day before."

He backed away in near shock. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anyone else?"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Look what happened when you found out. "

She had a point; he hadn't handled that well.

"And I couldn't tell anyone else because you'd get sent to Azkaban with your father." The tears she'd been attempting to hold in now slid down her face. "I mean, how would I live with myself knowing I did that to you?" _Of course_, she thought, _how am I going to live with myself knowing that I let whatever he's going to do happen?_ But she didn't say it.

Unbeknownst to her, Draco was thinking along those same lines. How would he live with himself after he fulfilled his task? He hadn't been cut out to be a Death Eater; he had something that the rest of them lacked: a conscience.

"I love you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Merlin knows I shouldn't, but I do."

**A/N**: Every writer loves to hear from her readers, so do me a favor and tell me how you feel. Be honest whether it be good or bad. I've almost finished writing this story!! Pls….. review!!


	10. CHOICES

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius. (And the "word vomit" is from the movie _Mean Girls_.)

**Chapter Ten: Choices**

Draco swore that he could feel his heart swell with happiness so much so that the fact that his happiness would be very short lived never crossed his mind. He pulled Hermione into his arms and just held her.

"I don't see why you're so surprised." She smiled up at him with a tinge of melancholy in her eyes. She understood the situation all too well. "I couldn't be with you if I didn't love you."

He arched an eyebrow in question. "Are you saying that you've always loved me? I mean, since we've been together?"

"Upon some deep introspection…yeah. I mean, there's no gray area for us. We either hate each other, or we love each other; I don't think we will ever just like each other."

He nodded. "That's unfortunately very true." Only, Draco had the sinking that it wouldn't be very long before she started hating him again. But as he looked in to her eyes and tenderly pressed his lips to hers, he let the dark thought slip from his mind and just focused on the woman he loved.

They both felt a sweetness in that kiss that they'd never before felt. The outward expression of Hermione's love for him made it different from any other kiss that they'd shared. It possessed an element that made them forget that there was anyone else in the world who'd tell them it was wrong.

Hermione was happy that everything went back to normal, or as normal as could be attained in the current state of the world. Two weeks after they'd made up, Hermione left her Arithmacy class with huge smile on her face. She'd just earned thirty points for Gryffindor in one class. Her smile widened as she remembered when Draco had told her that if she had been in Slytherin they'd actually win the House Cup.

But then the smile fell from her face. Walking toward her in the corridor were Draco and Pansy Parkinson, arm in arm. Rage and jealousy boiled up in her as they passed. Pansy smiled at her maliciously, but Draco didn't seem to notice her presence. Part of her wanted to yell out every profanity that came to mind, another told her that there must be a rational explanation, but the part that ultimately won out was the one that urged her to run to the Gryffindor Tower and cry into her pillow until dinner.

Trying her hardest to cover her agitation, Hermione went to their private room the next day as they had arranged. The facade apparently worked because Draco enfolded her in his arms on the settee without noticing that she was perturbed. She took advantage of this and posed her subtle accusation. "I saw you with Pansy the other day,"

Hermione couldn't see Draco as he rolled his gray eyes. "It doesn't matter how many times I tell her that I'm counting down the years until I never have to see her again, she just won't get that point."

"So there's nothing going on between you?"

"No!" Leaning around so he could see her face, Draco looked at her seriously. "Merlin, Hermione, I love you. If there was one good quality that Salazar Slytherin prized it was loyalty. I'm loyal to you."

And then it happened before she could stop it; word vomit. "I bet you're loyal to Voldemort, too."

His whole body went rigid. There was a turbulent mixture of emotions in his eyes making him look more ferocious than she could remember him ever being. She immediately got to her feet and moved some meters away from him. She didn't think he'd grow violent, but she could never be absolutely sure.

"Don't say his name!" he yelled, causing Hermione to flinch.

"I don't fear him like you do," she retorted.

He seemed to regain some of his calm. "You should," he admonished after awhile.

Hermione shook her head. "You can't be loyal to him and to me. It just doesn't work."

He approached her, taking her by the shoulders and looking at her desperately. "Damn it, Hermione, don't you get it? I didn't want to follow in my father's footsteps; I didn't want a become a Death Eater, but if I don't complete the impossible task he's given me, he'll kill me and my family–"

"If you do he'll kill me."

Her solemn statement knocked the breath from his chest. He'd never thought of it in that context before, but it was likely true. If he fulfilled his task, and then Harry was defeated, Hermione would most likely die. He didn't even know what the Dark Lord planned to do with the Mudbloods when–if he defeated Potter. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy wished for the victory of his archenemy, Harry Potter.

He was amazed how one person could so drastically change his views on life. Hermione looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears and he felt tears of his own collect in his eyes. He'd known for weeks now that he was seemingly forever stuck between a rock and a hard place, but that he'd eventually have to make a decision. He couldn't work in the room for all of eternity, dreading the day that the cabinet might work and allow the Death Eaters to infiltrate the school. Hell, Hermione could die then for all he knew.

"Dumbledore can protect you, if you just let him," she suggested desperately.

He closed his eyes at the agonizing irony of her suggestion. Pulling her into his arms, he let his tears fall freely. He wanted to be with her for eternity and that was it. He wanted to forget that anyone in the world would tell him it was wrong, that anyone existed at all. He cursed the day that the former Tom Riddle ever left his mother's womb; he cursed the day that Professor Dumbledore told the same man that he was a wizard, and, most of all, he cursed his father for ever getting in with the likes of the Death Eaters and taking the Dark Mark.

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor Common Room two weeks later. Harry and Ginny were getting cozy not too far away and Ron was futilely trying to write a perfect essay for Snape. To someone looking on, it seemed that she was concentrating sternly on the words on the pages in front of her, but nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, she couldn't have told you what was on those pages to save her life. Instead, she was attempting to piece together a puzzle of necromancy.

What was Draco up to in that room? Harry had often posed the question after looking at the map and only gaining nugatory facts. "What is he doing!" he'd mutter angrily. Sometimes Hermione would smile and think, "Half of the time he's in there he's doing me." Not now though. She wanted to know for herself. She realized that if she just asked Draco he'd probably tell her, just to share some of the burden, but then she'd have a burden of her own. If he told her strait out, she'd feel obligated to turn him in, but if she figured it out on her own, she wouldn't so much.

She knew that he was behind the 'attacks' on Ron and Katie, but she also knew that they weren't his targets. He had a target, a task as he called it, an impossible one. _That means someone else has tried and failed_, she thought. She had already decided that he was supposed to kill someone, but whom? Harry was out of the question; Voldemort had to face Harry. So who did that leave? Then it began to come together.

_Voldemort tried to kill him and failed, the poisoned wine was sent for him, and the Katie was probably told to give the necklace to him_, she thought rapidly,_ it makes complete sense_. "Oh, shit."

Draco sat on the floor and stared up at the cabinet as he had many times before. He'd done everything imaginable to the stupid contraption, and it still refused to work._ Maybe it's because I don't want it to_, he mused.

In truth, Draco dreaded the day it did work. But then he noticed something on the inside that he hadn't noticed before all year. _That's it_, his mind yelled at him. Jumping to his feet, he tightened the object and began to hear an almost imperceptible whistle. It worked!

It's unfortunate that Draco was one of those people who really can't compute more than one or two things at once. At this point he was relieved that the cabinet worked and that he wasn't as good as dead anymore. He was too busy thinking about these things that he completely forgot about the fact that the woman he loved was as good as dead now.

Hermione stood just outside Snape's office in the dark corridor with Luna. She'd taken a small sip of the Felix Felicis just like everyone else, but she still felt uneasy. Draco was going to try to complete his task tonight, she knew it. She only hoped that he didn't go through with it.

Snape's office was silent; there was nothing going on there. She signaled to Luna that she was going to check the rest of the corridor to see if anything was happening, and she silently moved down the stone hallway.

Then she saw him, his white-blonde head looking around anxiously. For some reason, she didn't think twice about stepping out from her hiding spot and he noticed her instantly. "Hermione?" Approaching her slowly, Draco continued to look around. "Hermione, you shouldn't be here, it's not safe." There was true concern in his voice.

Tears began to sting her eyes before she could stop them. It wasn't safe there because of him, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn't hate him. At least, not yet. "You don't have to do this," she reminded him desperately. "Dumbledore can protect you from Voldemort, but not if you kill him."

"How did you–?"

"Nevermind! Just don't do this!" she begged.

Draco could practically see her heart breaking in her eyes. "I'm not brave like you, Hermione. I can't just stand up to the Dark Lord." He violently pulled up his sleeve to remind her of his brand. "I can't go back now."

Steamy tears began to flow down Hermione's cheeks. "You could, you just won't."

He tried to wipe her tears, but she turned away. "Don't do this," he whispered in pure agony. "Hermione, please, I love you."

She shook her head. "No, obviously you don't. If you kill him, I'm dead."

"I'm sorry, I have to do this, and hope that someday you can forgive me." He tried to kiss her one last time but failed.

"I'm sorry, too," she spat viperously. "I'm sorry that I ever thought that you were capable of loving anyone other than yourself." Hanging his head in what Hermione hoped was shame, Draco turned from her and walked away. "I can _never_ forgive you."


	11. DECISIONS

**A/N**: everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**A/N**: I want to say thanks to **Writer of Mysteries** , **AnIrishLily** , and **ILOVERWHPDM** for the reviews...thanks guys: )

**Chapter Eleven: Decisions**

Draco paced on the steps of the Astronomy Tower, constantly looking over his shoulder. If Hermione followed him, he'd really loose his nerve. Then all would be lost. Dumbledore kept talking to him, asking him how he'd gotten to this spot. The Professor looked so much older and feeble than Draco remembered.

Here was a man that Draco had secretly come to revere and he was begging for his life. The only wizard that the Dark Lord ever feared was at the mercy of Draco Malfoy. Yet, the secret glory that many Death Eaters would feel at overcoming an obstacle that even their great leader couldn't, wasn't to be found in the young Malfoy.

"You're not a killer, Draco," Dumbledore was saying. Of course he wasn't a killer! Hell, he wasn't even a Death Eater in his mind. That's why his previous attempts had been so pathetic. Though other people had ended up getting hurt, he told himself that those accidents were the fault other people. Katie Bell had gotten hurt because the necklace hadn't been wrapped well, especially for a cursed necklace, and Weasley had been hurt because of Slughorn's selfishness and dishonesty. These facts were his only solace.

As if the Professor were reading his thoughts he said, "…I wonder whether your heart has truly been in it…"

"It has been in it!" Draco lied automatically, but he didn't mean it one bit. If anything, his heart had been in finding a way out of it. "I've been working on it all year," he added in accordance with his true thoughts.

A sound from within the castle drew his attention. Something was happening to someone and he desperately hoped that Hermione wasn't involved in whatever it was. She hated him now, he knew it, but he still loved her; something told him he always would. Though, at that point in time, he doubted that his 'always' would be very long. He couldn't kill this man, and it would get him killed in return.

Dumbledore knew it too. He also knew that Draco had been behind the previous attacks. He slowly worked through Draco's machinations with a few hints from Malfoy, who paced in boredom and anxiety. But eventually, Dumbledore did just what Hermione said he would: he offered his help. For some reason, Draco knew he wasn't just offering in order to save his life; he truly wanted to help. Draco was amazed. Here he was, standing there with the supposed intent to murder and his victim was sincerely offering him help. It was an even greater deterrent. But it was unfortunately nugatory. "No, you can't," Draco said, the agonizing reality and fear gripped him once more and his hands began to shake furiously. It was the same thing with Hermione. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice." I'm dead, he thought.

"Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine."

This statement from Dumbledore brought a small glimmer of hope to Draco's being. Maybe there was hope after all; maybe he wasn't as good as dead. But the next thing he said turned the tables oddly. "… You're at my mercy…"

"No, Draco," the wizen professor countered quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

And how true that was. The only way Draco could get out of this mess was with Dumbledore's help, and they both knew it.

But then some of Draco's 'back-up' came into view from the inside. His chance was gone now. If he didn't do it, they would, and they'd kill him too. These people didn't care about anything but pleasing and getting closer to a man who considered no one his friend or confidante. And Draco certainly wasn't one of them.

The Death Eaters pressured Draco, and because of them he'd have an excuse for his young conscience. Only, he still couldn't do it.

But with the silhouette of one person, Draco knew it was over. Snape, with his arrogantly sweeping robes, joined the rest of them. Draco could see the sick determination in his black eyes that had been constantly absent from his own. It was then that Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the day, the only wizard that the Dark Lord feared, began to beg. "Severus…"

But it was futile. Without a word to anyone, Snape raised his wand and aimed it to the Headmaster's chest. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Draco watched in horror. His hope was gone.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears as Harry told them the tale of what had transpired on the Astronomy Tower. Draco hadn't gone through with it, but the professor had died anyway. As usual, she blamed herself. If she had just told Dumbledore about Draco instead of letting her teenage fantasies get in her way, he'd still be alive. If she would have tried to stop Snape from leaving his office instead of falling for his lie about Professor Flitwick passing out when he'd actually done something to him, maybe Dumbledore would still be alive. But 'if onlys' would do her no good.

She didn't sleep well for the duration of her stay at Hogwarts. She constantly feared that her incriminating secret would somehow manifest itself on her forehead and everyone would find out. Her singular solace was the fact that Draco hadn't done it, but it was too little too late. Even with that fact, she knew that she would never be able to forgive him.

What she forgot to consider was how Draco would fair now that he was with the Death Eaters and he had failed to complete his task, especially since he'd had the opportunity.

**End of part one**

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short, but it was an unplanned chapter. I had planned to go strait to the second part, but I thought that you'd all like to know what Hermione's thoughts were when she found out he didn't do it, and what thought processes Draco had before he decided not to do it. And remember, writers love to hear feedback, good or bad, so please review.**


	12. LETTERS

**A/N:** Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.  
**A/N:** Well, my avid readers…welcome to part two.

**Chapter Twelve: Letters**

**Part II**

**Six Years Later**

Hermione sat in her office at the Ministry of Magic. Considering that it was her last day there, any young witch would have loved to be in her shoes. Unfortunately, that was the last thing on her mind. Morosely she looked at the picture on her desk taken five years earlier at her graduation from Hogwarts. Three smiling graduates waved at her from the frame and she smiled at them sadly. She hadn't seen her friends in five years.

It had been the very same day that picture had been taken. Malfoy, who had somehow managed to escape from Snape and aid the good side, had made a last ditch attempt to beg for her forgiveness…

_Hermione smiled brightly at what had to be the tenth camera and put her face next to Ron's. After all they'd been through they were finally graduating. Since their joint efforts to finally defeat Voldemort, everyone wanted to take their picture. She could remember very few times when she'd been this happy, so smiling so much came easily. Besides, she knew there were many more happy times to come now that they were finally free of Voldemort and the Death Eaters._

In fact, all was well with the world. Snape had lost his soul when he'd been caught, rightfully so after all he'd done, and most of the Death Eaters were safely housed in Azkaban's finest cells. There were only about twenty that were successfully evading the authorities, Narcissa Malfoy among them. Malfoy…

Her smile dimmed at the thought of that name. He'd been plaguing her and her thoughts all year. True, she'd done her fair share of tormenting him like everyone else for the past year, but he'd tormented her without even knowing it. He'd betrayed her, hadn't he? Betrayed her trust, her love? She'd asked herself the question too many times, and, yet, she had no answer.

Then there he was, almost out of nowhere, two meters away. Their eyes locked and Hermione's pulsed began to race. Don't come over here, her mind yelled at him, not now when I'm almost rid of you. But he moved toward her. She turned in the opposite direction; she had to get away from him.

"Hermione!" he yelled after her; she continued to walk. But he apparently wasn't giving up that easily. "Hermione, stop!"

Hermione stopped, closed her eyes and inhaled. Everyone was looking at them now, and she couldn't stop him. But she would try. "Malfoy, don't do this, please," she pleaded in a low whisper.

He stepped closer in an effort to give them some semblance of privacy. "Stop lying to yourself, Hermione, that's all I ask."

Over her shoulder she could see Ron look at Harry and ask, "Since when did he call her Hermione?" They walked closer and Ron spoke. "What're you playing at Malfoy?"

"Hermione, you know you're just dating him to hurt me. I love you!" Draco yelled desperately.

If everyone hadn't been listening before, they were listening after that. Ron and Harry looked at her simultaneously with astonishment and agony in their eyes. "Hermione?"

A tear ran down her cheek, she knew it was the end. It was then that she lost everything…

He'd caused it, every succeeding argument and event had been his fault. Maybe if he'd asked in private she might have considered it, but he'd done it in front of everyone. Her darkest secret laid out for all to know.

All the proud Slytherin had gotten was a black eye and a severely bruised ego, but Hermione had lost everything. Harry and Ron found out about her sordid affair and realized that she alone could have prevented Dumblebore's death if only she would have gotten information from Malfoy, something Draco had almost wanted in the first place. At that point, she hadn't even tried to defend herself. She doubted they could have understood.

After that she hadn't spoken to any of them. With the exception of the twins, the Weasley family, including Harry since his marriage to Ginny, had made it very clear that they wanted nothing to do with her. Harry even worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which was three floors above hers, as an Auror, but the few times they'd passed each other in the halls, he'd completely ignored her. She knew she was dead to them.

But that was the past. The walls of her office were covered with awards for her books and commendation from the ministry for her international work. These were things that she'd gained on her own…without them. she didn't need them.

The door to her office opened and Zofia came through, holding a letter in her hand. "This was in your tray," she explained. "I though I'd fetch it for you."

"Cheers," she smiled, taking the letter. Zofia was her only remaining friend from Hogwarts, not that she'd had many to begin with, but everyone else had sided with their beloved hero. _Their hero who would have died many times over was it not for me_, she thought.

As she opened the letter absentmindedly, she immediately recognized the handwriting and the almost indiscernible signature. "Malfoy," she spat.

Zofia arched a ginger eyebrow at her. "It's that time again?"

After five years she knew she should be used to it, but somehow the inconspicuous letter always seemed to quicken her pulse. "I've got to stop this," she decided firmly.

"How exactly do you plan on doing that? I mean, you really think he'll stop after five years?" Zofia pointed out skeptically.

Hermione looked down bashfully. "I've never actually told him to stop. I've always just ignored him, hoping he'd give up someday," she admitted. The truth was she was afraid of what would happen if he said the things he wrote to her face.

"Hmm, he's sent you those letters religiously every two months for the past five years and you thought he was going to just up and quit?"

Hermione stood up and defended herself; "I don't want to see him, alright?"

Zofia sighed and gave her a sympathetic smile. "I don't think you have a choice, love."

"Might as well do it now," sighed Hermione as she walked out of her office. Draco worked in The Department of Magical Games and Sports was on the seventh level, a level Hermione had always found best to avoid. Today, though, it was her destination. She figured that since they'd no longer be working in the same building, today was the most ideal day to confront him. Whether or not that was true was still to be seen.

The door to the lift opened and her courage almost failed. The last two people in the world she wanted to see stood there smiling, hand in hand. Harry's smile dimmed as she stepped in beside them. She could tell by the look on their faces that she only confirmed their suspicions when she designated the seventh floor as her destination. It figured, the first time she'd gone to confront Malfoy and they had to be in the lift with her. Luckily, she was only going down two floors, so the tense ride was short.

When the door reopened, she was so focused on leaving that she ran strait into someone waiting to get on. Someone with the palest hair she'd ever seen. "Malfoy," she nearly spat when she registered who it was.

He, on the other hand, softly breathed her name, "Hermione…?"

"I need to talk to you," she explained with forced civility, "privately."

Hope flashed in his eyes, but only for an instant. Her voice might have been even enough, but he could recognize the cold glint in her eyes. "We can talk in my office," he told her discreetly. "Follow me."

As she followed him through the department, some of her determination was eroded away by the submissive manner in which he led her. Just by the small interaction they'd had, she could tell he'd changed since graduation. No doubt it had to do with the utter contempt that the Malfoy name now invoked in everyone. Considering that Narcissa was still a renegade Death Eater and Lucius was forever in Azkaban, there wasn't a free soul in the Wizarding world that looked up to the Malfoys as the ideal family now.

Malfoy's office was exactly the same as hers, official and void of personal touches. Of course, she knew that he only worked there becuase no one else would hire him. There were prejudices against Draco because of the mark on his arm. She could tell that he didn't enjoy his job just by the banal office he worked in.

Closing the door behind her, he sat on the edge of his desk and looked at her expectantly. "So?"

"You've got to stop," she commanded bluntly.

"What're you–"

"Don't be thick, Malfoy," she cut him off. "Stop sending me letters. I have felt nothing but the deepest loathing for you for the past six years."

He didn't say anything. He just sat there on the edge of his desk and bore into her with his turbulent eyes. She hadn't felt so transparent in a very long time.

Six years, Draco thought as he looked at her. He hadn't held her in his arms, or completely caught her off guard by kissing her in six years. In fact, the last time they'd had any physical contact he'd ended up with a black eye for two weeks. But as he watched her begin to shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze, he began to understand the real reason she'd remained aloof. "Really?" he asked purposefully.

Her response was delayed and defensive, "Yes,"

"Uh huh,"

A new fervor lit her eyes as she stared at him with flared nostrils. "Just stop!" she yelled and left his office, slamming the door in her wake.

"DAMNIT!" he yelled and kicked a huge hole in the front of his desk. Through the window of his office he could see Hermione stop and wince. Strike two.

Hermione ran her hands over the smooth leather of her new office chair. Inhaling deeply, she breathed in the scent of her new establishment. She was the boss now. The store was hers to do with as she'd pleased. She couldn't stop smiling.

She had been at the store in Hogsmeade since daybreak. When she'd Apparated outside of the store, she'd been thrilled to find the storeroom filled with the books she'd ordered to fill the shelves.

It was nearly one o'clock in the afternoon and the front room had been arranged and rearranged until it was perfect. She sat in her office behind the counter and just smiled. For the first time in maybe six years she was truly happy.

As she sat there in her daydreams, she began to hear a hollow tapping. When she left her office she saw a tiny owl furiously pecking on her window. Hermione opened the door, but the tiny owl continued to peck the window until she took hold of it. After she untied its equally tiny burden, she was surprised to see it fly back to the Hogsmeade post office. Even more curiously, though, was that the bit of parchment was blank.

When she turned back to her shop her heart nearly leapt out of her chest with fright. Leaning against the building, a clever smirk playing at his lips, was Malfoy.

"Good afternoon, Hermione."

She replied tersely, "Well, it was."

Hermione turned on her heels and walked back into her store, Malfoy following silently in her wake. She'd never invited him in, but at that time he didn't really care.

"How did you know I was here?" she questioned tensely as she pretended to rearrange a display.

"There was an advertisement in my tray."

"I meant now."

"Uh," he hesitated. "I knew you'd be here now because you over prepare for everything."

She couldn't disagree with that. Again, she felt extremely transparent, even though her back was turned. "What do you want?"

He scoffed. "After six years, I'd think you'd know."

Inhaling deeply, she summoned up the courage to face him. "What will it take for you to stop?"

He considered her question. In truth, he'd almost been hoping she'd ask that kind of question because he knew exactly what it would take. 

"A date," he answered after a few moments.

She snorted, "A date?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You go on one date with me and I will stop…if you want," he added.

"I will," she assured him quickly. "If I go on one date with you, you'll stop?"

"That's the proposition."

She looked him over with a sour expression. "Fine,but _only one_," she stressed, she knew one was all she could take.

Draco worked to contain his excitement and managed to simply give her a curt nod. "I'll pick you up at ten tomorrow morning."

Her mouth fell open in horror. "Ten in the morning?" she screeched. "That's not a date!"

"Yes, it is," he combated calmly. "It's an all day date."

Crossing her arms defiantly, "I refuse," was the only thing she could spit out.

"Good, see you at ten." He flashed a smile and swept out the door. He was going to be there promptly at ten if she was ready or not. He'd finally gotten the chance he'd been waiting for, and somehow he knew one chance was all he needed.

**A/N: I don't want to be one of those pushy authors...but please leave me a review. It will make me happy, and happy people write. Hehe. thanks.**


	13. A DATE

**A/N:** Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Thirteen: A Date**

Hermione furiously paced in the living room of her house. He'd planned, the whole thing, and she walked right into it. "A date," she ranted. "The nerve!"

The grandfather clock read five till ten as Hermione impatiently looked out the window. She didn't think he'd be early, and if he knew what was good for him he wouldn't come at all, but she highly doubted he'd do that either.

Hermione suddenly ceased her pacing. How would she feel if he stood her up? After all, she had tormented him several times in such a manner their seventh year at Hogwarts. Those definitely weren't among her prouder moments. One memory in particular floated back into her thoughts; a memory she'd desperately tried to forget…

_Hermione slipped out of the corridor and into the familiar room. What once had been happy memories flooded her mind as she looked around. Now they haunted her. She was almost constantly afraid that someone would find out what she'd really been up to last year. She shuddered. Ron and Harry, but especially Ron would be crushed._

Shaking herself back to reality, Hermione quickly hid behind the desk in the corner where she'd often done her work. Malfoy would be there any minute. In fact, she hadn't been there thirty seconds before the door opened and admitted a very haggard looking Malfoy.

After looking around once, he didn't seem very surprised to find he was alone. Hermione wasn't shocked by this; after all, this was the forth time she'd done this to him. Most of the time he would fly into a blind rage and break just about everything in the room. Deep down she knew she did it just to convince herself that she was better off with out him.

This time, however, he placidly sat in a chair and began to weep. It was truly the most heart wrenching thing Hermione had ever seen. She watched him rock back and forth in the chair, his head in his hands, and tried to convince herself that he had brought this on himself.

Suddenly he stopped. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she watched him pull out his wand and point it at his chest. There was no doubt in her mind what he was planning. Thinking quickly, she whipped out her own wand and pointed it at the full-length mirror, shattering it. Draco's wand fell to the floor and he anxiously looked around, excruciating pain and terror mixed in his pale eyes. With a violently shaking hand, he collected his wand and ran from the room.

Hermione's hand subconsciously went to the locket that still hung secretly around her neck. Her heart was beating furiously under it. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. And she couldn't bring herself to admit what she'd just realized…

A knock on her front door abruptly brought Hermione back to reality. Almost trance-like she walked to her front door and opened it mechanically. An older Draco smiled down at her, holding out a bouquet of perfect roses. She automatically took the flowers but looked at him in confusion. "Draco?" she asked and touched the bare spot on her chest where the long forgotten locket had once faithfully resided. But it wasn't there; she'd thrown it into the lake after graduation.

Draco's stomach clenched at the dazed way she said his name and reached for the absent locket. But she looked genuinely confounded. Had she really forgotten? "We have a date," he reminded her.

Shaking her head, Hermione took in her appearance. She'd put on some of her muggle clothing just to annoy him. "Right, uh, come in," she stammered. Turning away from him, she went to her kitchen to put the roses in a vase. She didn't know how she was going to get through the day because every time she looked at him she felt renewed guilt over what she'd nearly driven him to do.

Another knock brought her back. She immediately turned to see Draco leaning in the doorway of the kitchen. For the first time she noticed that he had also donned muggle clothing, but she chose not to think about how handsome he looked in them. "Ready?"

"I guess," she muttered and followed him from the kitchen. "Where are we going?"

"London,"

Hermione locked her door and joined him in her front yard. "You're going to have to be more specific if you want us to end up in the same place," she admonished.

"Just go to the Leaky Cauldron." 

"Oh, how fancy," she said sarcastically. The next instant she was standing in the dim dinning room of the wizard pub in London; Draco instantaneously appeared beside her. No one in the room paid them any mind; they were all used to people appearing out of thin air.

Draco surprised her by walking to the door to muggle London. "Are you coming?" he asked when she didn't follow.

He held the door open as she caught up with him. "I didn't realize you meant muggle London."

He arched a pale eyebrow at her explanation. "Why else would I dress this way?"

Without replying, she followed him down the sidewalk. It had been a while since she'd been to muggle London. Whenever she went out it was either in Hogsmeade or in Diagon alley. She doubted that Draco frequented the city either, so she was begrudgingly curious to see exactly what he'd planned for them. 

As they walked along, Hermione silently wondered when she'd started to think of him as Draco.

When they reached the Thames, Draco stopped at the London Eye. "Have you ever ridden this?" he asked excitedly.

"No, I haven't," she told him honestly.

They joined the surprisingly short queue waiting to get on the huge Ferris wheel. Within five minutes they were shut into a bubble…just the two of them. 

Hermione stood directly opposite from the door and looked out at the river as they slowly rose over the city. She'd been in London a great deal since she'd found out she was a witch, yet she'd never ridden one of its most famous attractions.

"How does it feel to be free of the ministry?" Draco asked after a while.

She smiled almost shyly but didn't look at him. "Feels really good."

"You were working under Percy Weasley, weren't you?"

She scoffed. "As if you didn't know," she replied tensely, remembering that she was supposed to give him a hard time all day. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his pale eyes dim. She'd been easy on him before, now she had to make up for it.

"I was just trying to start a conversation."

"We've never been able to have a conversation," she snapped.

"Whose fault is it now?" he blurted out without thinking. The sudden change in her disposition didn't escape him. She hadn't been quite herself when he'd picked her up; the snappy Hermione was unfortunately the one he was used to.

She looked at him, eyes narrowed, but she didn't seem surprised. "What? Did you really think I was going to come with you and pretend that the past six years never happened?"

"No–"

"Or I'd forget that it's because of you that I have only one friend in the world?" she ranted.

"You could have two!" he shot back.

Anger boiled up so fiercely that Hermione couldn't even articulate a retort. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized that they had just reached the top. She still had to spend twenty minutes locked in this bubble of a prison with Draco.

The tension that grew between was almost tangible. Draco could almost see her murdering him in her eyes. This definitely wasn't going like he'd thought it would. He reluctantly left her side and went to the opposite side of the compartment. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke even further. 

Time seemed to go purposefully slow and the creeping Ferris wheel didn't help to speed it along. As they came to the bottom, Hermione joined him by the door. Pushing past him when it opened, she left the platform not caring whether Draco was behind her or not.

"Hermione!" he yelled as the distance grew between them. He ran to catch up with her when she didn't stop. He realized why when he forced her to stop by stepping in front of her and grabbing her shoulders. Tears stained her cheeks and more were escaping her eyes.

"I thought I could do this, but I can't," she cried. "Please, just leave me alone. I don't ever want to see you again."

Draco desperately searched her eyes; surely she didn't mean it. Surely somewhere deep down she still loved him…she just had to.

"Please," she begged again.

Letting go of her shoulders, Draco stepped aside to let her pass. And just like that, she was gone again.


End file.
